


The Land of Gods and Monsters

by SidheSeer



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 1900s revival themes, Alternate Universe - Mobtale, Alternate Universe - Underpatch, Alternate Universe - mafiatale, And a vague appearance, Angst, Because many a man is threatened by a woman in power, But will hopefully be worth it, Drama, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gang Wars, Gaster is best broster, Gaster!Papyrus - Freeform, Gaster!Sans - Freeform, I sort of have an idea where I'm going with this but eh we'll see, I usually play him as dadster but let's try something new, Italian American Mafia, Italian that is hopefully not too botched, LOTS of violence, Mafia!Papyrus, Mafia!Sans, Magic Technology, Maybe some smut? Idek, Minor Character Death, Monsterphobia, Prohibition, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is a mafia boss, Reader is in their early 20s, Reader kicks ass though, Reader-Insert, Sexism, Sexy Fluff, Slow Burn, This...is going to take a lot of research, is there even a difference between mobtale and mafiatale idek???, monster racism, reader has a nickname, reader is female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-02-01 23:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12714621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidheSeer/pseuds/SidheSeer
Summary: It is the year 2XXX, an era rich in culture and change. Cities are booming with an ever-growing populace, boosting the economy and accumulating unimaginable wealth. However, “Non v’è rosa senza spina”, there is no rose without thorns, and not all is as it appears. For beneath the blossoming society is a dark underbelly taking root. Organized crime bares its teeth at government forces as powerful mafia families fight to control their own destinies and the public along with them. It is a twentieth century revival, but with a new player on the field: Monsters. After escaping imprisonment beneath Mount Ebott with the help of a single human child, they sought an equal position in the game. By accumulating power The Dreemurr family hoped to gain the respect they deserved, but with racism and magic restrictions this task was far from simple.In this crime-rampant world you are godmother of the Allegri family, a woman among a violent, patriarchal lifestyle. Even with the power your family accumulated you continue to face opposition and threats from other gangs within Ebott City. When your past begins to catch up with you not only your family, but monsters and your very soul will all be placed on the line.





	1. Chi tosto giudica, tosto si pente.

**Author's Note:**

> It's ya doll, back from the grave. *finger guns*  
> So I've been gone for about 84 years (aka about 3 months) due to a lot of chaos and such in my personal life. But things have chilled out now and I actually feel like I have the time to come back here. Yay! "Bound by Blood and Bone" is currently on hold while I sort out some other details to the main plot, but this new idea has just been refusing to leave my head. 
> 
> ...And I feel like G!Sans and Papyrus need more love. What better way for that than mixed with a little mafia and some 1900s revival themes?
> 
> Side note, as of right now I am not translating the short Italian words/phrases within the story. But If you'd like me to, I easily can either at the end in the notes or right after the phrase in brackets or something. Up to you, my dear reader.

_“Who judges soon, soon repents.”_

* * *

 

There was an unusual silence hanging over the streets of downtown Ebott City. The utter lack of sirens, screams, or gunshots was possibly more unsettling than their usual cacophony. A lone black car sped smoothly across the rain washed pavement, florescent lights streaking across its pristine body as it passed. The tinted windows of the refurbished Lincoln Continental Mark III obscured its occupants from the curious glances of the few souls brave enough to still wander the streets after nightfall. Those who were smart, who knew their place, quickly looked away, shuffling on about their business in a hurry to get home to safety. Others lingered, looking on with a mix of fear or contempt. They did not have to squint through the darkened, and no doubt bullet-proof glass to know exactly who was inside. Perhaps the separation and discretion of the windows was as much a blessing to the onlookers as it was the vehicle’s occupants. At least this way they could not meet the gaze that sent undeniable shivers down their spines.

 In contrast, you found the passing scenery to be far more entertaining than the briefing one of the crew was prattling off from the file the consigliere provided. The transaction was simple, and less about gain and more about building a relationship with a new family. Thus your expression was somewhat dull, single eye half-lidded with boredom while the other was hidden behind a black silk eye patch. You absentmindedly studied the troubled faces of those in the streets, noted shops that were due for a visit, and peered into shadowed alleys for any unsavory activity in your territory. Gang violence in residential areas of your turf was rather distasteful in your opinion. After all, apartments riddled with bullet holes and sidewalks stained with blood were bad for business and rarely sold.

 “Don, we...uh, we really dealin’ with _Mostri_?”

 The direct question, tinged with disgust, withdrew you from your musings and pulled your attention to the young man beside you. He was young, likely a year or two your junior, and clearly still green in this line of work. You eyed the thin glaze of perspiration across his forehead and the way his free hand was curled into a fist to control its trembling. Yes, he was fresh meat in this hellish lifestyle, prime for the fire. You almost pitied him, though the empathy did not reach your features. Your lengthening silence was taking its toll on the poor boy, his adam’s apple bobbing with a nervous swallow as he averted his gaze.

 “Gabriele, was it? You were confirmed a made man last month, correct?”

 “Yes, Boss.” Even in the dim light you could still make out the slight flush on his cheeks at your recognition. Meanwhile out of your peripherals you noticed the capo, the captain of the crew, stiffen in the driver’s seat. A smirk threatened your lips; he knew exactly what your nonchalant tone implied.

 “Well, Gabriele,” With a facade of a smile you placed a hand gingerly on his shoulder, “it would be best for you to learn now that I’m not all too... _fond_ of _racists_ . You do the jobs _I_ order when _I_ order them, whether it’s for humans, monsters, or the devil himself. _Capire?_ ”

 You could actually feel the shudder run through the young soldier’s body as your fingers curled into a vice grip on his expensive suit for emphasis. He sputtered pathetically as he recoiled from your glare, his life flashing before his eyes. You were not known by Morta, the Roman goddess of death for nothing. Most wished for death if they were unfortunate enough to incur your ire, and sometimes you were merciful and dealt the blow yourself. This boy was getting a mere hint of the flames he was stoking in your gaze and that was enough.

 “U-understood, Boss, w-won’t happen again.”

 “ _Bene_ ,” Your gaze softened considerably, a smile now playing at your lips as you brushed the wrinkles out of his sleeve. At least this one did not piss his pants. It would have been a shame to have him stay in the car for the meeting. “You’ll survive, kid.”

 In the time your little reprimand demanded you had already made it to the warehouse district by the wharf where the meeting was to be carried out. Not a soul was in sight as you weaved carefully between steel crates and old brick storerooms, which was to be expected. Only those in close association with the Allegri family were allowed in the area. As the car slowed, nearing a particularly large and heavily locked building you gave yourself a quick mental prep. Though you had been the Don of the Allegri family for over a year now, this was your first amicable interaction with a family outside of those already allied to you. There were expectations that weighed heavily on your shoulders and you knew your father would be wanting a detailed report of the deal. You would be damned before you disappointed him, not after all the work it took to claw your way to the top. So, with a deep breath you hardened your resolve and pulled up the wide hood of your trench coat, swallowing your features in shadow.

 The car came to a full stop beside a matching Lincoln Continental, behind which was a forest green convertible and large truck, gaudily decorated with the trademark Mettaton logo. You arched your brow at the flashy ride.

  _Not ones for subtlety, are they?_

 At least you had already paid off the police to turn a blind eye for the evening, just in case.

 Noting the vacant vehicles it appeared the other family was already present, early, while you arrived exactly at eleven o’ clock. It was a sign of respect to meet on time, and to see the representatives of the new family waiting at your beck and call gave you a certain thrill of power. This meeting clearly meant a lot for them to ensure they would not be late. The reassuring thought gave a boost to your confidence as you and the crew emerged from the car and into the crisp autumn night. There was an extra chill wafting in from the ocean breeze, but it was insignificant to the icy aura you exude. Even your men gave you a wide berth, taking the lead with the capo front and center as you requested. As far as this new family was aware they were merely meeting with a crew of the Allegri family...not the Don. You would scope them out with a critical eye to determine if formally making a family of monsters your ally would be worth your while. The move was risky, unheard of in other mafia families, but you preferred to handle matters yourself...however unconventional that may be. After all, lounging about your office, safe and sound, to simply wait for a report was hardly any fun.

 The doors to the old warehouse screeched in protest as the capo slid them open just wide enough for everyone to squeeze through. You lingered a couple feet behind, head bowed and inconspicuous as any other crew member as you entered the building. Another soldier at your side shut the door with a resounding thud. It was showtime.

 What first came to your attention was the strong smell of smoke in the air. It was distinctly fragrant like a cigar, but unlike any you had encountered before. Notes of citrus and subtle spice invaded your senses and left a lingering buzz along your nerves that you knew could only be one thing: magic. Next were a few whines and agitated...barks? The sound was so out of place that you finally glanced up. It took a considerable amount of self control to not let your steps falter at the sight.

 A half dozen bipedal dogs stood in the center of the room alongside a few armed members of your crew that had accompanied them there. Your soldiers stood firm, unfazed, but at a safe distance with their guns in clear view. The hounds were decked out in everything from suits to armor and their weaponry was notably lacking. A couple had small handguns, though most were unarmed. One even had an old battle axe, which you found terribly amusing. Apparently, you were the only one. The tension was almost palpable in the air, no doubt building in the poorly lit storeroom with each passing minute of your absence. It was no matter, you were well aware they depended more upon this deal than you did. They could wait.

 A slow, sharp clap echoed from the back of the building, accompanied by the soft clip of unhurried steps.

 “Well, well, well, aren’t we punctual? I gotta say, I’m impressed.”

 There was a vivid shine of golden light from the shadows just before the speaker stepped into the pale moonlight streaming through the dusty windows. While you had been expecting another dog, you were sorely mistaken. Instead you were met with a skeleton, a living, walking, talking skeleton dressed in a rather expensive pinstripe black suit. Ah, this skeleton was also the source of the unusual cigar wafting through the air. Clamped between his smirking teeth was what appeared to be a cigar, but with curling golden smoke trailing from the end, glittering in the dull light. Definitely magic. Though you were tempted to study him further, drawing attention to yourself was too risky, so instead you focused on the captain’s back.

 “Judge.” Your capo tilted his black fedora in greeting and you could almost picture his stony expression even with his back to you. The pressure was on in the presence of his boss.

 A humorous snort escaped the skeleton as he removed the cigar from between his teeth, releasing a cloud of glittering smoke into the air above. Still, he tipped his own fedora in turn.

 “You humans and your formalities. Just G is fine.”

 So this was the rumored “Judge” of the Dreemurr family? From what you had heard, the monster had built up quite the reputation for himself, and a respectable body count. It was a miracle the police had yet to take him down, their willingness to turn a blind eye to violence not extending to the monster mafia. As he stepped before the captain you had the chance to take in his towering height and lithe frame. Well, he was only bone, but somehow his suit held its shape over his skeleton.

 “Did you bring the amount we agreed on?”

 “Straight to business, I see. No fun at all…” His words trailed off, but you still managed to catch them and if it were not for your carefully placed hood someone might have caught your bemused smirk. This G was quite the character, his casual demeanor refreshing compared to the old geezers you usually dealt with.

 With a snap of his fingers the dog dressed in a full suit of armor bounded over with a metal suitcase, and you noticed a few crew members flinch. The dog monster passed the case to G, panting with excitement and tail a blur. With a few pats to his fluffy head as a reward, the dog ran back to his group looking immensely pleased for completing his task… Did his neck just grow a couple inches?

 “All here, just like we agreed.” G practically purred as he popped the case open to reveal row upon row of cash. If there was one thing the monsters had, it was money, what with all the gold they accumulated underground. It was just a matter of finding someone who would actually accept it. The captain gave it a careful inspection, eyeing the amount to determine it was in order before giving a satisfied nod. With a sharp snap G shut the case, his perpetual smirk widening ever so slightly.

 “Everything in this warehouse is for the Dreemurr family.” The capo gestured to the crates pushed to the sides of the room, “Feel free to check at your leisure.”

 Rather than move to peruse his purchase, the skeleton held his ground, taking another long drag from his cigar. G’s single golden eye narrowed as he focused on the captain’s face. You noticed the captain’s back muscles tensing beneath the fine fabric of his suit in the response to such scrutiny. The entire room fell silent, as though a cumulative breath was held.

 “Nah, too much of a hassle.” The skeleton merely shrugged, “It’s all there, you’re not lyin’.”

 Your eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Was this monster serious? Could he actually discern whether a member of the mafia was lying or not? The skill came second nature to a made man, mastered before even learning how to handle a gun in the family. A soldier incapable of lying was a liability and a dead man walking. But apparently the Judge of the Dreemurr family was unphased by facades. Clearly, he got his title for a reason.

 “What do you say we wrap this up, seal the deal? This ocean air is chilling me to the bo-”

 “ _Beep! Beep!_ ”

 The air itself seemed to still at the interruption and you could feel that golden gaze falling on you. Whoever had the audacity to call you at this moment had better have a hell of a good reason or they would not live to see the sun rise. Bringing a hand to your ear you accepted the call on your bluetooth, doing your best to ignore the eyes boring into you.

 “ _Parlare._ ” Your tone was soft, barely more than a whisper, yet clipped and edged with venom.

 “Don Asgore Dreemurr has been arrested and taken into police custody.”

 Your blood ran cold and the call abruptly ended, no further information necessary. All the while, G was about to pass the case to the captain, sealing the deal.

 “ _Fermati!_ ”

 All eyes landed on you and your captain immediately stilled, fingers mere inches from the case. So much for subtlety. But anonymity was a small price to pay to prevent your family from associating with one that had been compromised. Composing yourself, you cleared the distance to the capo’s side, head bowed to keep your features obscured at least.

 “I take it that wasn’t just a pleasurable chat?” Though G’s tone remained light, you could see a certain stiffness about his smile as he narrowed his sights on you. Before him now you could make out two distinct fractures marring his face, one curving gently up from his hollow right eye socket, while the other dipped down to his mouth. Despite being bone, his features were expressive, malleable almost, thus you could easily make out his discontent. Although your head remained nestled deep within your hood, you never let your eye leave his. Even as the capo bent to lend you his ear you held his gaze, rapidfire Italian hissed from your lips to explain the situation.

 “ _L'accordo è spento_.” The captain straightened, understanding exactly what this situation had become, “The deal is off.”

For a moment, G merely blinked, slowly allowing the words to register. His smile eased into a firm grimace. A chill threatened your spine at the sight, but you fought to remain composed

 “...I’m sorry, ‘fraid I don’t understand. We brought what you asked.” Sockets narrowing, G’s single golden eye became barely a pinprick as his anger began to rise, “There should not be a problem.”

 “Well, there’s been an unfortunate change in plans.” The entire warehouse seemed to be on edge in an instant. The distinct rustle of fabric and clink of metal filled the air as everyone reached for their weapons.

 “Weeell, you see, it’s rather imperative we get these guns. So,” Suddenly, G’s height seemed immensely more imposing, as though his shadow was lengthening over the room. The air crackled with magic, “you’re going to accept this deal...or I’ll be sending this case back to your boss with the rest of your remains.”

 “ _Gesù Cristo”_ You could not help but mutter the curse, pinching the bridge of your nose as the cocking of guns filled the air. All barrels were pointed on the skeleton. He only chuckled humorlessly, his dog monster crew bristling and snapping behind him.

 You had to step in.

 " _Rilassati, idioti fottuti_.” Instantly the firearms went down, though still locked and loaded. You gingerly stepped in the little remaining space between G and the capo. It was a shame you only came up to the skeleton’s collar bone. Meeting his gaze would be impossible this close without letting him catch a glimpse of your face, so instead you spoke to his chest.

 “This was not exactly according to plan, Judge, but,” You placed a gloved hand against the offered case and pushed it back to his chest, “you will likely need all the money you can get now. God only knows how much the bail will be for your boss.”

 You had hardly used any force against the case, but G took a few hesitant steps back in shock, the cigar going slack between his teeth. With a snort of disdain he struggled to gather himself, but try as he might to detect a lie from the capo, he could not. G fumbled to pull his smart phone from his pocket, alighting his fingertips with golden magic to scroll through the lock screen to reach the latest news. You arched a brow as his sockets grew impossibly wide, golden light snuffed out like a candle to leave two unsettlingly hollow holes.

 “ _Shit._ ” His gaze briefly flickered back into light and onto you before he called back to his crew, “Haul out, the deal’s off. Meet me back at base.”

 “As for you,” Rather than address the captain before him, G settled his sights on you, “I am sure we will speak again soon...once I clean up this mess.”

 The grimace never left his features, even as he somehow blinked out of existence, much to the surprise of everyone else that remained in the warehouse. His canine crew whined in anxiety before hauling ass out of the building to follow orders. It was almost impressive how quickly they scattered, akin to cockroaches. Once the area was clear of everyone but your men, you let your hood fall back, eye still narrowed on the spot where G once stood.

 “...Boss?”

 Your gaze flickered to the captain before you turned on your heels and made your way to the warehouse door.

 “Lock up and move out. _Velocemente!”_ You could not resist a smirk from cracking across your lips as you spoke more to yourself, “The situation just got...terribly interesting.”

 The entire crew collectively shuddered.


	2. Chi non è meco, è contro a meco.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which news is broken and plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to get a little insight into how everyone is taking this breaking news, both human and monster, as well as some background on our two families. Enjoy!

_“He who is not with me, is against me.”_

* * *

 “ _Che casino…_ ” You sighed, as you entered your office and removed your coat.

The situation was, indeed, a mess. An interesting, and rather entertaining mess, but a mess nonetheless. You had not expected your first meeting with the Dreemurr family to end in such a disaster. Originally, the guns were meant to be a sort of peace offering, a taste of what the Allegri family could offer them. Protection was desperately needed by the monster community, a fact which was commonly known. While the species had magic holding them together, if anyone was caught utilizing it they would be on a direct trip to prison, or worse. As the morals of society degraded and cells overflowed with all manners of sinful souls, the death penalty was no longer out of the question. There simply was not enough space, and, quite frankly, perhaps some people deserved to die.

That was what the world had become and that was the world the monsters had stumbled into five years ago. If anything their arrival only threw the world into further chaos, even as their species was contained to Ebott City. They were intelligent and powerful beings that offered all sorts of advancements in technology, medicine, and power. But blatant mistrust banned the use of all magic. They only barely managed to get monster food in the local markets out of necessity to survive. Employment was still a disaster for the race and safety was nonexistent. The police would take their sweet time coming to the aid of a monster in need and would completely ignore any random dust pile found in an alley. Monsters were as low as one could be in this fucked up social hierarchy. Even the drug addicts that littered vacant buildings had more worth, so as long as they were human.

There was something admirable about Don Asgore Dreemurr and his methods for helping those in his family, along with his people. Formerly known as the king of monsters, he was quickly stripped of that title upon reaching the surface. But rather than lay down, defeated, he found a new means of attaining control to aid his fellow monsters. There was little glory to be had in forming a mafia family, especially for one consisting of a “lower species”, but money talked. Assuming there was anyone willing to listen. Most established mafia families within Ebott City, from Italians like the Allegri family to the Irish and Russians as well, were hesitant to ally themselves with monsters. They all assumed it would tarnish their name and put a black mark on all their associates. You were, to your knowledge, the only one willing to hear them out. Perhaps it was Don Asgore’s desire to help protect his people, rather than extort them that softened your heart to reach out to them? Or maybe it was just the money. Either way, it was a chance to expand your connections that you were not willing to pass up.

After all, your family was now considered unusual as well among the others in the city.

When your father, Luciano Allegri, had named you the next godmother of the family there was chaos. The idea of a woman leading the mafia was unheard of in Ebott City. To everyone else, women were like cattle, a bartering chip in deals for merging families or just make some extra cash. For a woman to take the lead and be in power was practically seen as an insult to Italian-American mafia tradition. But your family was not exactly normal to begin with. Rumors of the Allegri's being more of a cult than a mafia family were rampant, all of which were lies. Well, mostly, at least. What was true was that your family was not traditionally Christian as most Italian mafia families were. The Allegri were rooted in far more ancient and traditional beliefs of your motherland, Italy, and that was apparently enough to put a black mark on your name. A number of families saw past the rumors and were willing to align and work with you, others swore they would be damned through association.

For not being Christian and then allowing a woman to lead the family, the Allegri's were seen as the misfits of one of the leading mafia families, the black sheep. If it were not for the strong hold your family already established before you took control, you likely would have lost everything. But not all of your allies cut off ties when you became the new godmother and for that you were thankful. Now it was just a matter of regaining a bit of lost ground. Unfortunately, the incident that evening did nothing to further your goal.

“Disappointing…” Bitterness edged your musings as you flipped on the lights, igniting the office in a warm glow. Turning to your desk, you anticipated just dropping into the plush leather seat and dozing off before sorting through some paperwork.

However, that proved difficult as your chair was already occupied.

“Scoot, old man, you’re in my seat.”

Your father merely chuckled from where he was reclined, making no move to get up. It was a blessing that he had a sense of humor, most children of mobsters would likely be slapped for mouthing off as you did.

“Good to see you as well, _passerotta._ ”

A roll of your good eye was your only response to the endearing nickname from your childhood. Your father could be so cheesy sometimes, despite being a former don.

“So, what? You two just hang out here in the dark while I’m gone, gossiping without me?”

With a stretch you sauntered over to the desk, instead taking one of the smaller and significantly less comfortable seats before it. Swinging the furniture around you straddled the chair and rested your chin on its back to stare Luciano down. He leaned forward in turn, steepling his fingers to rest his head against and meet your gaze. To his right Matteo, your consigliere and childhood friend, leaned against the wall, arms crossed and face too stern for your liking. He was clearly in what you had dubbed “ _fratellone_ ” mode, like the overprotective older brother you never had. It did not suit his face, already creased with smile lines around his mouth at age twenty-six from his contagious grin. This Matteo was serious and humorless, so much so that you already found yourself frowning like a child when he caught your eye.

“Obviously, we were just discussing the interesting night you no doubt had.”

“Tattletale.” As if pouting was not enough, you stuck your tongue out at Matteo, knowing he was the culprit. You could tell he was biting his lip, fighting back the smile that twitched at the corners of his lips. It bothered him to no end that you could make light of any serious situation, but even more that he failed to remain composed every time.

“Even if he had kept his lips shut, the media is not exactly being quiet about this situation.”

To prove his point, your father plucked the remote off your desk to turn on the flat screen fixed to the opposing wall. It was already set to the local news and, sure enough, the breaking story was of the arrest of Don Asgore Dreemurr.

“ _At 11:17pm this evening, police chief Arthur Miller approached the Dreemurr household with an arrest warrant for the alleged mafia leader. He was accompanied by several SWAT team members for backup if the situation got out of hand, though their assistance was never called upon. Dreemurr left his estate in police custody without resistance. The current charges against Dreemurr are several counts of child abduction and murder. As of right now, there is no confirmation if these charges are associated with his rumored mafia affiliation. Dreemurr is expected to appear in court next friday.”_

“ _Minchia…_ ” You whistled, shaking your head. This situation was far more complicated than you had anticipated. If he had been arrested for possible extortion or assault, then at least there was a possibility of bail. But not for something like this, charges this severe would not be allowed to slide.

“Well, he’s fucked-”

“Language.” Your father barked, though even his expression appeared rather grim for the old goat monster.

“As if there’s a better way to put it. Child abduction? Murder? I can’t see him getting out of this alive, and I doubt you can either.”

An audible sigh escaped Luciano as he reclined in his chair once again, rubbing his temples.

“I trust you handled the deal tonight appropriately?”

“Of course, what kind of don do you take me for? Matteo got the news to me just in time.” In an effort to ease the tension, you shot your friend some finger guns and a playful wink. But even that was not enough to break the anxiety quickly filling the room. Now it was your turn to get serious.

“I called off the deal in time. At first the Judge wasn’t too pleased. They’re clearly desperate for some sort of protection. You know they found six more dust piles just yesterday? Six! Some sick fuck is picking them off.”

Pity for their plight gripped your chest. Every day more monsters were gunned down by other gangs, leaving nothing but dust. There was not even evidence of who committed the crime, and even if there was, the police were not going to put forth the effort to find out for a monster. The only remaining option was for the monsters to defend themselves, but no one was willing to deal firearms to them. Until you, that is. Rather you were, however, now that Don Asgore was arrested it would be too risky to start dealing lethal weaponry to them, even for defense. It would only make their leader’s situation worse to find the species now heavily armed. Not to mention it would attract attention to your family if the source of their firearms were traced back. Your father nodded, his thoughts following the same trail as your own.

“Wise decision, unfortunate that the deal turned so sour, but it was the best move.”

“But now they’re completely defenseless _and_ without a leader. I doubt they’ll last until the year is out at this rate.”

Matteo’s grim remark made your stomach drop. Organized crime was difficult and deadly on its own. Organized crime without a leader to guide and protect the family was a massacre waiting to happen. Considering how quickly the monsters were already being hunted down, their numbers would dwindle to nothing by the winter. All they were now were easy targets.

You felt sickened by the thought, the reality of their species.

“ _Passerotta_ ,” For once you did not sneer at the childish nickname, “you know under normal circumstances I would leave all matters to you, as godmother of the Allegri family. However, this situation has taken a dangerous turn.”

All you could do was nod, too frustrated at your own inability to help to respond. In the little you saw of monsters and the scene you watched unfold tonight, you knew they were not bad people. They were simply terrified. For all their power and knowledge of magic, they were weak compared to the hatred and vile actions of humankind.

“I would have to be blind to not see your compassion, your desire to help.” Perking up slightly, you steadily met your father’s contemplative gaze, “If you’re willing to work with me, I may be able to devise a means of assisting the Dreemurr family. But we must act quickly.”

“...Really?” It was difficult to mask your eagerness in your tone. Save an entire race and probably expand your family’s influence? You would be considered a hero and a force to be reckoned with. “Of course, whatever it takes.”

For a moment, Luciano arched a brow, surprised by your eagerness, but quickly gave you a wry smile.

“It’s settled. I’ll meet with Don Dreemurr tomorrow, it should not be too much trouble. We can discuss matters to find the best approach to keep the monster people safe. In the meantime, I would like for you to continue handling all matters of the Allegri family. Matteo has provided some interesting information of which I believe you should look into.”

As your father stood and walked around the desk you stood as well. He paused before you, affectionately placing both hands on your shoulders,

“You, my dear daughter, are the leader of this family. Expand its power, associates and allies. Remain true to our values. Do not work simply to make me proud, but yourself. I want you to lead us into the bright vision you have for the future, _capire_?”

“Yes, _papà_.” Your heart swelled as he placed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

Grabbing his hat and coat off the rack by the door, Luciano left with a nod to Matteo and one last confident smile to you. He believed in you, and that alone was enough to encourage you to save the Dreemurr family. This could be your shining moment as the don of the Allegri family, only a year after attaining the position. It was an opportunity you were not about to pass up.

“ _Andiamo_ , Matteo,” With a clap of your hands you plopped yourself down behind your desk, propping your feet up on the hardwood surface. “What dirt have you dug up for me tonight?”

“Well, move your feet before it gets any real dirt on it, dork.” You gave Matteo as sheepish smile as he rolled his eyes and tugged the files out from beneath your boots. At least his stony mask had crumbled away.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

There was a dull crackle of magic in the air and the faint aroma of sulfur, a clear sign of teleportation. Of course, most humans and even monsters were often too distracted to notice the subtle indications. But not _him_ , not when he had to grow up around such antics. Even as he mulled through paperwork laid out in neat piles on the coffee table, his brother was still unable to surprise him.

“Evening. Everything go as planned?”

“Hell no!”

Now he jumped, attention easily torn from his work to the irritable presence of G just behind him. The skeleton was still dressed in his suit and fedora, though the black silk tie was loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Always eager to unwind, he was.

“Enlighten me, brother.”

“Gladly, it was a _shit show_. Turn on the news and you’ll see why.”

Without another word G unceremoniously vaulted over the back of  the couch to his brother’s side, reclining and resting his long legs directly across his lap, much to his irritation. But with arms as long as his, there was little trouble to be found in snagging the remote from the coffee table. With nimble fingers he turned on the television mounted above the fireplace within the cozy office space, quickly switching from a cooking channel to the local news.

All he had to read was the massive headline reading “Alleged monster mafia boss arrested” to have his fill. The remote fell from his fingers and clattered to the floor, grip loose with shock and sockets wide. G studied his brother’s response, almost finding humor in how similar it was to his own. It was unthinkable, laughable even to imagine that their leader, their _king_ , Asgore could be captured by mere humans. But apparently nothing was ever completely out of the realm of possibility.

“Uh..Pap- Aster…? Bro?” G waved a hand in front of his brother’s face to dislodge his gaze from the screen. With a shudder Aster came crashing back down to reality, shuddering from the aftershock.

“B-but...how? When?” There was a painful tug at G’s soul to see his brother in such distress. Asgore was more like a father to them than simply their boss. To see him arrested with such heavy charges held against him was enough to shatter one’s soul.

“I...I don’t know.” G narrowed his gaze down to his fists, firmly clenched in his lap. He never enjoyed feeling helpless, powerless in the face of an enemy against which they had little chance of fighting. “It was right before we completed the meeting. Actually heard about it through one of the Allegri’s crew, the whole deal was brought to a halt because of it. I thought they were just trying to play us...until I saw the news.”

“So, the deal fell through too, I imagine?” At G’s grim nod, Aster groaned, running his hands down his face, bone scraping against bone. They needed those guns. The younger brother might have hated violence, but they needed those weapons, if only for protection. Every damn day another monster wound up dead, nothing but dust. No one in the police force was willing to help, no matter how they begged. As far as Aster could tell, their species was viewed as animals, as if they were just killing each other off.

_But as soon as a human goes missing, oh, it’s obviously the monsters at fault._

The bitter thought left his magic prickling. Don Asgore was framed for a crime he did not commit. There was no feasible way around it. Aster knew the goat monster like family, he had a compassionate soul, full of love and barely a Level of Violence to speak of. He was innocent, but out of fear and hatred the humans sought to pin their problems against the monsters. If they disarmed their leader, the rest of the community would be easy pickings for gang violence. They would be completely wiped out.

G could see the hope quickly leaving his younger brother, the reality of their situation crushing him. In an effort to comfort him he sat up straight and scooted to his side. He placed a hand to his shoulder to allow some calming energy flow between their souls. It was a delicate task, but with their birth connection it was manageable, even in his tired state.

“There has to be a solution to this. It’s all bullshit, you know that, right? I mean, what about bail? We could afford that, right?”

The wealth within the monster community was likely more than several other mafia families combined. It was to be expected when one was trapped beneath a mountain for thousands of years, full of gold.

Unfortunately, all Aster could do was shake his head, still hidden behind his hands.

“Not this time, G.” Aster already sounded completely defeated, “Abduction of children and murder is not so easily smoothed over. Regardless of money. This situation is...absolutely dreadful. I mean, it could be _lethal_.”

The death penalty. Could they honestly sentence Asgore to die? G felt his magic snap with fury, various objection in the room levitating and spontaneously being crushed to dust as their gravity went haywire. At the disaster quickly unfolding, Aster dropped his hands to wrap his brother in a firm hug, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. This close, he could feel the hum of G’s soul and found his own quickly making to harmonize with it in order to soothe him.

“We will find a way. This isn’t the end. Asgore, he...he said that if anything were to happen to him, we should take charge. We will not let our people die, nor our king. _We will find a way, brother_.”

Aster could feel G’s grip tighten around him, phalanges curling into his dress shirt as he nodded in agreement. G no longer trusted his voice, not until he calmed down a bit. With a few more deep breaths the room settled and he felt well enough to lean back. His hands still rested on his brother’s shoulders.

“We will. I’ll get in contact with Undyne. She’s been studying to get on the police force for years, maybe she’ll know a better way to approach all this. And maybe Alphys can come up with something to protect us. I know magic is banned, but...if it’s something they can’t detect, that’s a possibility, right?”

He knew he was grasping at straws at this point, but G could not let his hope die. There had to be a way to save their leader and keep their people safe. He would not rest until he found a solution and he knew his brother would not either.

“Agreed, we just need to relax and approach this extremely carefully. They cannot kill Don Asgore on the spot, he has to stand trial. Even if nothing comes of that, we at least have a bit of time before he is sentenced.”

G felt his determination return at his brother’s words. Aster always knew the right thing to say, he was a magician with speech, enchanting one might say. Hell, he even wrote poetry in his spare time. At least he could provide a strong defense for their king for his trial. Perhaps not all hope was lost. At the very least G would not go down without a fight, rules, restrictions...humans be damned.

“Get some rest, brother, we are going to need it.”

A small smile found its way back to G’s features as he stood, a quiet yawn slipping out.

“You too, bro. Don’t overwork yourself. We’ve got this.”

Even as he called out over his shoulder, making his way up to his bedroom in their apartment, G saw his brother turn back to his work, completely engrossed. He could not blame him, with all the responsibilities they suddenly had thrust upon them, there was little doubt either would be able to find sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I got secondhand stress just writing this. It really looks like the odds are against the monsters, doesn't it?
> 
> As always, comments, critiques, and kudos are appreciated! Thank you for reading, next chapter will be up soon!


	3. Mal comune, mezzo gaudio.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daily life of a mafia boss and an unexpected encounter. Elsewhere, deals are made and fates are sealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit this chapter is long. I anticipated it to be a bit lengthier, but this is...something. Hopefully it doesn't come across as rambling too much or slow at the start. I just could not find a proper place to cut it shorter. This is pretty much how I am always going to manage my chapters, by the scenes I want to include rather than a particular word length. So expect the chapter lengths to vary quite a bit. I also still do not have a definite update schedule, especially with the holidays coming up. It is heavily dependent on my muse, and plus this is supposed to be fun. I'd rather not stress out over it too much, ya feel? ^-~
> 
> That aside, enjoy this chapter and its antics.

_ “Misery loves company.” _

* * *

If it were possible to shoot the sun down from the heavens, then you likely would have done so that morning. From within your nest of blankets the vicious rays sought nothing more to disturb your slumber and give a loving kick to your splitting headache. You were close to regretting the amount of alcohol you and Matteo consumed last night while conducting business and finishing paperwork. Not quite to full remorse, but close. But after one hell of a night could anyone truly blame you for seeking some comfort in the bottom of a bottle? Your first attempt at aligning families had been completely ruined. Fuck the money lost, this was a blow to your pride as a mafia boss. The circumstances could not be helped, but that did not ease the stab of shame you felt over your failure.

Of course, a few martinis in your system dulled the pain. But the unrelenting pounding in your skull that morning certainly brought you quickly back down to earth.

With a rather unflattering groan you wormed your arm out of the sheets to blindly grab your phone from your bedside table. After nearly toppling out, you managed to grasp the infernal device on your third attempt. With a bleary eye you quickly typed a text to Matteo, ensuring he got home safely and was not lying somewhere, drowned in his own vomit. As his best friend, it was your duty to be concerned, not to mention you would be out a consigliere.

Once that task was complete you began to work up the energy to disentangle yourself from your covers.

“Baby steps...baby steps…” Cheering yourself on was about all you could manage to keep yourself from collapsing on the floor in a heap. With the wall for support you eased your way to the large bay window, tossing the curtain across it to plunge your room back into a comfortable darkness. At least now you could properly open your left eye without your skull screaming in protest. Yawning, you heaved your weary body to the bathroom, only stubbing your toe once by some miracle.

“ _ Fanculo la mia vita. _ ” You grit your teeth through the pain now coursing through your foot and your head. It was a small blessing that your bathroom had a dimmer for the lights, which you slowly eased up to a level that did not make you want to crack your head on the granite counter.

Standing before the mirror, you supported your frame against the edge of the sink. A low whistle escaped your lips as you took in the view. The image portrayed in the media of women waking up with beautifully tousled bedhead and rosy cheeks in the morning was utter bullshit. You looked like hell between the hangover and your usual morning irritableness. The rat’s nest on your head was what one could only assume to be hair, a few strands clung to your face from dried drool and there was still lingering mascara underneath your left eye. As per the usual you kept your right eye firmly shut. It was instinct at this point, you had no desire to give yourself nightmares so early in the morning. Gingerly you brought a few fingers up to your eyelid, pads brushing lightly over the thin skin. You still felt nothing, just cold and numbness, so suitable for what lay behind.

The reminder put a sour taste in your mouth. It was far too early in the morning to recollect the past. You tore your gaze from the mirror and marched over to the shower to turn the water on full arctic blast. Shedding off the tank top and shorts you used for pajamas you braced yourself and hopped into the icy spray. Only a small squeal escaped you as your body began to acclimate to the chilling temperature. A moment of standing frozen in place beneath the showerhead and you were comfortable enough to start washing the tangles from your hair and grime from your body.

Morning routine aside, it was time to begin the day. You already knew you had your work cut out for you. While there was nothing undercover, no crews to overlook or major deals to make, you still had other business to attend to as the boss of the Allegri family. It was business you found to be tedious, but unfortunately it had to be done. Money would not launder itself, and someone had to pay your higher end associates a visit. Donning a pencil skirt with a teasingly high slit up the side, sheer black thigh highs, and a fitted bolero jacket over your black lace cardigan you were ready to face the day. Almost.

“Aaand...there.” A silken black eyepatch was tied securely around your head. You then parted your hair to the right and neatly combed it over your concealed eye. Discreet, and yet alluring, the entire look gave you a sense of professionalism with an air of mystery. Now, you were ready to head out. Tucking a few files into your briefcase and slipping on your black pumps you made your way out of your room.

“Ah, Miss Allegri, good morning. I have prepared your coffee. Will you be taking it to go?” From the kitchen Greta, your maid, greeted you with a bright smile. You hardly considered the older woman a maid, more of an aunt. She and her family had been working alongside the Allegri’s for years and took great pride in their work. You considered her family, as well as a close confidant, and you only grew fonder of her after…

“Ah, yes, I have some business to attend to by the wharf and in the theatre district.”

“Well, miss,” Greta poured the freshly brewed coffee into a steel travel mug before passing it off to you, “I hope you have both a pleasant and lucrative day. Dinner will be prepared for you once you are back home.”

With a grin you placed a quick kiss to the woman’s cheek,

“ _ Grazie _ , Greta, you’re a true blessing, you know that?” Seeing the maid flush and click her tongue as she shuffled you out the door, pea coat in hand, only made you chuckle. It was the smaller things in life that could make your day that much brighter, even with a lingering hangover.

You took the spiral staircase leading down to the ground floor of your building two steps at a time, quite the feat in heels. But you were eager to get to work, the sooner you got the basic business aside, the sooner you could muse over last night’s dealings. While your father had insisted on handling the situation, you were not about to stand idly aside and wait. If there was a way you could protect the now vulnerable monsters without compromising your family, then you would find it.

“Ah, Miss Armati, a word, if you will.”

You started at the sound of Matteo calling you out by your cover name. It was clever, Armati, “armored”, the name which protected your true family. Just as the humble art gallery situated beneath your apartment was a means of concealing the dealings that took place above. You made your way across the open hardwood floor, weaving between supports that displayed the works of a popular Venetian artist you had grown fond of lately. Matteo idled by the front desk, waving you over after having passed a few information pamphlets to an elderly couple viewing the collection. His cheshire cat grin only widened at the sight of you, which you freely returned. At least he was in one piece after the booze you both drowned in the previous night.

“Matteo!” Perhaps your tone was a little more exuberant than necessary, but you took some joy out of watching him flinch. Looks like you were not the only one still hungover, “What can I do for you?”

“Well, Miss, I just wanted to inform you that we have obtained a few more pieces requiring your approval.”

He passed a leather bound binder to you, flipped open to the latest catalogued entry. Twelve new paintings were listed, their titles and artists of little consequence, but all of which were obtained from a “Mister Canero”. A small smirk overtook your lips as you eyed the familiar name. There was much to be acquired from the black market, such as these latest additions to your collection. On paper the entries appeared of little significance but “Canero”, a play on “cane nero” or black dog, was a clear indicator to you that they were so much more. Naturally, these pieces would never see the light of your art gallery. Instead they would be destined for a private auction at double the price, exclusive to only a handful of high society. After your approval, of course.

“Excellent, I’ll take a look at them early next week.  _ Suona bene _ ?”

“ _ Si, va bene. _ ”

With a snap you shut the binder and passed it back to Matteo, who quickly tucked it behind the counter of the front desk. You gave him a quick wave before departing, leaving management of the gallery and its guests in his capable hands.

The brisk autumn breeze greeted you as you stepped out onto the streets, teeming with life in the early morning. You tugged the thick fabric of your coat a bit closer, already feeling the bite of winter stinging your nose. Around you individuals rushed about their daily lives, hurrying to their jobs or rushing their children to the bus stop for school. You took a moment to admire the pleasant buzz of life on your streets, sipping at your steaming mug of coffee. It pleased you to see people happy and safe in your territory. Unlike other mafia families, you cared deeply for your people, not just those within the Allegri family (though they did take some priority). Your extortions were more like legitimate protection fees, and always reasonable to the income of whatever business or household you were working with. Rarely did you have to send a crew out to rough up anyone on your own turf. You did your best to not oppress, but support and guard the welfare of your people. Never did you want the Allegri family to be hated, feared within reason perhaps, but never hated. While it was impossible to please everyone, the general consensus appeared positive over the last year under your leadership.

“Off we go.” It was the happiness and safety of those that lived within your territory that kept you motivated through all the monotonous work of a godmother. Humming a pleasant tune to match your cheerful thoughts you meandered down the block to the private car garage, entering the passcode to access the building. Within was your matte black Ferrari 458 among other disgustingly expensive cars. It was a passion of your father’s, one which he might have just passed on to you. But there was no shame in indulging in a few finer things in life. The pleasure of sliding into the driver’s seat of your sports car was one you would be hard pressed to relinquish. Nothing quite beat the thrill of the engine purring to life as it slipped from the garage like a cat on the prowl.

Your first stop was back to the warehouse district to check a major shipment status. Usually you would leave this work to a captain, however a representative of your associate would be present to discuss future plans for the coming new year and you preferred to do that in person. This particular shipment was what you considered the Allegri family specialty: weapons. Illegal firearms was your niche and you were damn good at it. Several of your associates both in Ebott City and overseas dealt in weapons with your family and by appearing in person whenever possible you maintained a strong, personal relationship. In doing so, contracting further business for the year was a small affair, practically technicalities. The brief meeting went by without a hitch, though the representative was rather curious as to why you had a bit of a backup of crates. You carefully breezed over last night’s failure, not wanting to cause embarrassment.

Next was the uptown area of your territory, which lay directly along its borders. There sat several shops in recently acquired turf which you were still working to convince agreeing on the protection fee. Rather than send a crew down to rough up a manager or two you opted to work with your feminine wiles and compelling charm. Flattering shop owners with how impressive their establishments were and chatting about a few gruesome news stories you heard in surrounding territories was enough to convince a majority of them to agree to the safety you could provide. The actual transaction and numbers would be carried out by a captain at later date, but you received their signature on a protection agreement and sealed the deal. Once the last signature was obtained from an adorable little flower shop and with a simply bouquet in hand, you made your way to the theatre district. Your final task of the day was welcoming a new shop to the area in a building under your family’s ownership, a meeting you were particularly eager to attend.

Why? Well, the individual renting your building was a monster, the first to take up residence on Allegri turf. It was not that your area was particularly prejudice, in fact just the opposite. You fervently promoted equality among everyone, the only exception being those of the Allegri family standing a bit higher on the food chain. Monsters were accommodated just as well as any human and you made it clear to each crew under your control to keep a watchful eye out for any racial tension. However, up until now you had no Monsters in any residential areas or shopping districts. It was likely due to their desire to remain close together, strength in numbers. Still, you wished to open your community up to them, especially now in their time of need. Hopefully with the introduction of one more would trickle into the safety of your territory.

Your ferrari slowed to a smooth stop in front of a small two story building. As you stepped out of your car, bouquet in hand, you already noticed improvements to the once empty storefront. A scalloped black and lavender awning shadowed a dainty little cafe. Decorative lace black curtains framed the windows and door. Peering inside you could see a recurring palette of black, white, purple, and dapples of red in the lolita-like shop. It was adorable and you had to credit this monster for her style, she had excellent taste. The door chimed with a delicate bell as you entered the cafe. Instantly the intoxicating aroma of sugary confections invaded your senses, enticing your sweet tooth. Clearly the manager was already preparing for tomorrow’s opening day. Speaking of which, you grinned as your spotted said owner chatting idly by the front counter with the realtor, an associate of yours.

“Ah, Miss Muffet, this is Miss Armati, the proprietor of your building.”

Crossing the room you readily held out a hand to the spider monster before you. She was, in a word, gorgeous. Lavender skin, porcelain smooth, silken black hair, and a tasteful Victorian-esque dress. While her excess arms and eyes were certainly new to you, you did not find them the least bit unsettling.  

“Charmed.” Her voice practically sang, petite fangs sparkling in the soft glow of the cafe as she took your hand.

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.” You gave her hand a firm shake before passing the bouquet to her, “Welcome to our neighborhood, Miss Muffet. It’s a delight to have you here. There is a distinct lack of cafes, and none quite as enchanting as yours.”

A dainty giggle escaped the spider monster, which she hid behind a slender hand. Her eyes practically glittered at the praise as she adjusted the flowers into the crook of one of her arms.

“Well, I do hope I can fill your expectations. This location is absolutely ideal and the building itself is the perfect size for me and my family. You do not happen to be afraid of spiders, do you…?”

“Not at all.” Judging from the thick cobwebs decorating the corners of the building you could only guess what “family” implied. But, just as with her unique appearance, you were far from concerned. “You know in some human cultures spiders are seen as symbols of luck and wealth, messengers of the gods even. It is my wish that you find equal blessings bestowed upon your charming establishment.”

Another peal of laughter danced off Muffets lips, “With such a gracious welcome, how could we not? I already have high hopes for the future, and it is thanks to you, my dear.”

From one of her many hands she passed a small lavender paper bag to you, its handles tied together with a satin red ribbon and the aroma of sugar and spice wafting from within. As she placed the bag in your grasp you in turn placed your free hand over hers with a warm smile.

“As do I. And if you find you have any troubles... _ any  _ at all, do not hesitate to contact me.” Your tone grew somewhat serious and Muffet noted the change with a knowing glint in her eye, “Rest assured I will take care of any problems swiftly and efficiently.”

“Thank you, Miss Armati. Do come by tomorrow if you have the chance for our opening.”

“I would be delighted.” Slipping the bag to your wrist you stepped back, “I’m afraid I have business to attend to presently, but I will see you tomorrow, Miss Muffet. Best of luck with your preparations, they already smell delicious.”

With a gentle smile and a quick wave you departed the shop, pleasant giggles trailing behind you. You found your mood completely lifted from the gutter it resided in last night. What was originally just a means to launder some dirty money, your property investment brought a wonderful new member to your territory. A monster, no less. It had been your hopes to increase your turf’s inclusion once it expanded to the borders of the Dreemurr district. The small cafe,  _ Saccharachnid _ , was the dividing line between your land and a monster shopping district. Just as Muffet proclaimed, it was perfect for attracting the attention of both species and you hoped her grand opening went off without a hitch tomorrow.

Noting the time on your cellphone you were well aware you did have some pressing, albeit tiresome, paperwork to attend to back home. However you could not restrain your gaze from lingering down the road. It was already four o'clock, the sun setting lazily behind the buildings, but in the distance you could make out the street bustling with monster activity a little ways down. Curiosity clawed its way inside you. A quick drive down would not derail you too much, perhaps even a drink to calm your nerves before tackling more work would do you some good. Without a second thought you hopped back into your car and, rather than swing a u-turn and head back home you headed straight for the monster district. There was no law saying you could not scope out the land.

A few monsters gave your ride curious glances, it was obvious you were not from the area, but you were far too overwhelmed by your new surroundings to notice. There were all sorts of intriguing shops, from monster grocery stores to clothing boutiques. You even spotted a salon that apparently specialized in “scale polishing”. It was fascinating, not like a spectacle at a zoo, but as exposure to a completely different culture so close to home. As you steadily made your way down the street you spotted a restaurant tucked curiously in the back of an alley. The only indication of its existence was a small red neon sign which simply read “Grillby’s Bar & Grill”. Small flames appeared to lick at the bottom of the logo.

A monster bar? Your ferrari quickly came to a stop behind a flashy black motorcycle parked along the sidewalk. You could not resist taking a peek.

* * *

“Hit me again, Grillbz.”

The fire elemental was half tempted to cut him off, just to see how he would react, but thought better once he caught the dark look in those sockets. Against his better judgement, Grillby refilled the shot glass with swirling amber liquid. The already tipsy skeleton downed it in one swift motion before resting his chin on the hardwood of the bar, head enveloped in the plush fur lining of his leather jacket. Grillby merely rolled the hot white flecks in his features that served as eyes, there was no listening to reason when G got this way. He was already one bottle into Low Tide, a monster alcohol of Grillby’s own creation. Once a few foolish humans stumbled into his bar with a enough money in their pockets to get a taste of the illicit drink. After gagging for a bit they all agreed it tasted like “burning salt water and soy sauce”. The insult was of little concern to Grillby, he made it exclusively for the monster currently before him anyway. And if the number of bottles G went through in a month was any indication, he enjoyed it, which was all that truly mattered in the end.

“I just...what am I gonna do, Grillby? I didn’t sign up for this.” The words were muffled into the bartop, but he could still make them out over the dull hum of jazz music from deeper within the bar. The bartender merely shrugged in his usual silence as he wiped surfaces down with a rag until they gleamed to perfection. G let out a ragged sigh turning his head up from the counter to peer at the elemental.

“I never wanted any of this shit. You an’ I both know I’m not fit to lead the whole, goddamn, monster race.” Groaning, he leaned back on his barstool, running a boney hand down his features, “But if I don’t...then my bro is gonna have to and I can’t do that to him, ya feel? It’d be as good as slapping a target on his back.”

“...Nothing is set in stone.” Grillby mused, tossing his rag on a hook off the back of the bar. Though his subtle features were calm, controlled, he could not deny the slight stab of concern he felt for his old friend. His almost constant smirk was absent from his face, replaced with a scowl.

“You really think we can find a way out of this? Tch…” G clicked his tongue behind his teeth, “Your optimism is overwhelming, but I think you’re the only one that sees things that way.”

Recollecting the day’s events, the skeleton released another haggard sigh to match his grim expression. It had been an unforgiving morning. He had awoken to an endless stream of text messages from countless monster close to him and their (former) King. The entire monster community appeared to be in an uproar over the situation. Many were furious, but mostly everyone was terrified. Their figurehead was gone and they were now vulnerable to any vengeful human who was not afraid of getting a little dust on their hands. G was not even out of bed yet and he already had to run damage control. He did his best to organize some of the leading figures in their community to meet at the (former) Queen’s house. Toriel had agreed to holding the gathering without a fuss, likewise desiring answers. With that aside, he went about preparing for the day, noting his brother was already absent. No doubt Aster awoke bright and early to start planning ways out of this predicament, if he even slept at all, that is.

The meeting was more than a little tense. Everyone present appeared to be on edge, even Undyne. She was known for keeping a cool head, even in the face of death, but with her life’s role model destined for death row, she was broken. G could not even find it within himself to lighten the mood. The meeting began after Toriel hurried young Frisk upstairs to play with their animated flower friend, not wanting such dark subjects to trouble them. Of course, don Asgore’s situation was the main topic of discussion. They had yet to receive any knowledge of the evidence the police held against him, only that he was charged with child abduction and murder on several counts. The very mention sent Toriel into tears, clinging to G for support. Despite separating from Asgore, she was still incredibly fond of the goat monster and G had no doubt they would be together again in the future. Assuming he made it out of this alive. Ideas were thrown out on how to approach the situation, everything from a mass stasis machine by Alphys to a plea of insanity by Gerson if the evidence was irrefutable.

Every solution they seemed to come to resulted in either Asgore remaining imprisoned or threatening an all-out war with the humans. If it came to that, they would surely lose. The meeting was fruitless in the end and hope continued to dwindle away. After he got out of that gloomy atmosphere all G needed was a stiff drink or two...or three. Maybe a whole bottle, he lost count.

“...I’m fucked, Grillbz.” He gave a humorless laugh, folding his arms across the bartop to rest his head. At least the buzz he now had sent a pleasant, dizzying waves through him. If he closed his sockets he could even hear the ocean tides crashing. Stars, he loved monster liquor. All he needed now was a dame on his arm, one he could take to bed later on and hide from all his problems between the sheets. He would likely still feel like shit after, but at least he could get a lay out of it.

With the effects of the magic booze weighing heavily in his system he almost missed the gentle creak of the front door. But the soft click of heels drew his attention enough for him to glance over his shoulder.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .” An appreciative growl curled from his teeth as his golden gaze fell upon you.

You hardly noticed the stares as you took in the bar’s interior, fingers combing your windswept hair back into place. The space was dimly lit, heavy burgundy curtains over the windows blocking most of the light from the street. There was a distinctly vintage aesthetic to the establishment, as if it was a speakeasy out of the twentieth century. Burgundy, gold, and hardwood complemented the theme, making it both classy and inviting. The bar itself sat further into the building, though you could catch a glimpse of it from the entrance. Namely a flickering pillar of fire dressed in fine, bartender attire. If you were not intrigued before, you certainly were now. Another fire elemental made her way over to you, her emerald flames absolutely dancing and you found yourself entranced. She was lovely and sharply dressed to match the atmosphere. It was difficult to make out any facial features, though a couple flecks of white light in her orbital head seemed to widen at the sight of you. Clearly humans were not common at Grillby’s, that or it was just unusual to see a woman at a bar, alone, so early in the evening.

“Hello, miss...a table for one this evening?” She leaned around you, peering back at the door as if she expected more humans to pile in behind you. You merely smiled at her interest,

“Yes, though is the bar open for seating?” Surprised, though not impolite, the fire elemental led you back to the bar with a polite bow before departing. The space was rather void of customers, though it was early in the day. You did notice a lump of leather and fur leaning over the counter in the seat beside you, but that was about it. Poor sap was probably some drunk, getting an early start on drowning his sorrows. Setting your briefcase on a hook beneath the bar counter you smiled up at the gentleman that originally caught your eye. He was indeed another fire elemental monster, though his flames were more classic in color. Silently, he set down a coaster for you, nodding in greeting and patiently waiting for your order.

“Oh, um…” It was a bit strange to be speaking with someone who’s face you could not discern, but you quickly overcame your surprise, “Just a martini, thanks. Vodka, extra dry, rocks on the side, with a twist.”

Grillby gave a quick nod as you prattled off your order, before he busied himself preparing your drink. With a content sigh you shrugged off your pea coat and leaned back in your bar stool, getting comfortable. It was only then that you got the distinct prickle down your spine of being watched. With a slight frown you glanced about for the culprit of your uneasy feeling,

“I have to ask, how does a doll such as yourself wander into a place like this...all by her lonesome?”

_ Shit… _

This had to be some sort of sick joke. You had entered this bar with the intent to unwind and sate your interest in monster culture. But apparently fate had other plans. You did not have to turn to your left to know exactly who was seated beside you, the gentle purr of his voice gave him away. It was fortunate you had not been looking his way in the first place or your rather shocked expression would have been a dead giveaway. Thankfully, from the sound\ of it the skeleton had yet to recognize you.

_ Prendi Insieme. _

Composing yourself, you barely gave G more than a glance before continuing to admire your surroundings with vague interest. That golden pinprick of light in his undamaged socket never left you.

“Like anyone else. I saw the sign, I wanted a drink, so I walked in. Is there a problem?”

You caught a soft chuckle accompanied by the rustle of fabric and leather. The bar’s features could only keep you amused for so long before you finally allowed your eyes to settle on the skeleton. He had one arm propped up on the counter, open hand cradling his cranium with his body angled to you. That familiar smirk you glimpsed the night before cutting through his marred features. Only now he was more casually dressed in a dark leather jacket with a fur trimmed hood, the sleeve of which bore the symbol for the Dreemurr family. Peeking out beneath the cropped jacket was a cream colored sweater, contrasting his dark leather pants and boots to match. Another laugh brought your gaze back to his face, your stare not going unnoticed. You simply rolled your eyes, instead taking a sip from the martini the fire elemental set down before you.

This had to be the best damn martini you ever had. Matteo would be put to shame.

“This is excellent, thank you, sir.” His flames seemed to spark a little at your appreciation.

“Grillby is fine, Miss.”

Ah, the owner of the bar. The name certainly made sense now, considering he was literally a man of fire.

“It’s just we don’t get many humans around here, you know?” Apparently G was not all too pleased to see your attention drawn from him. But you merely shrugged, allowing your eye to flicker back to him.

“I was just curious.”

“They say curiosity killed the cat.”

“Yes, but satisfaction brought it back, no?” That withdrew a slightly more genuine laugh from G, and you found yourself smiling in turn. So far he clearly did not recognize you as you did him, which made the atmosphere much less tense. Somehow you doubted he would be so pleasant if he knew who you were, what with the deal falling through.

“Perhaps, though most humans wouldn’t be satisfied until we were all dust.” G shrugged, nodding to Grillby for a refill. It was now that you noticed the subtle yellow glow about his cheekbones. Could skeletons blush? If so did that mean he was slightly drunk? You found the thought more than a bit amusing.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I won’t be living up to your generalized expectations of humanity. I’m just here for a drink.” At your words G quirked a brow bone, golden eyelight growing slightly brighter. It was a wonder how his face was so malleable despite being bone. There was some childish side of you that desired nothing more than to reach out and poke, test the give and figure out how he worked. Magic really brought out your more juvenile instincts.

“Aw, I’m heartbroken, my whole life is a lie.” You snorted at his mock drama, a response that seemed to please him if his growing smirk meant anything, “Well, how about a  _ real _ drink then?”

At that you arched a brow, lifting up the martini you were currently enjoying,

“This is one hell of a martini,  _ amico _ , I don’t think you could really beat it.” But G merely clicked his tongue and rolled his eyelight.

“Human liquor ain’t got shit on monster alcohol.”

“Oh? You mean the monster alcohol that has a strict ban on it, right?” You were teasing of course, but the offer of illegal alcohol did pique your interest. It was practically impossible to get one’s hands on the magic-infused liquor unless you had monster connections. Most humans did not, and admittedly most were to apprehensive to try it. But it had been a secret wish of yours for some time to have just a sip.

“Don’t tell me you were intrigued enough to step foot into a monster bar, but were not the least bit interested in trying monster alcohol. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

It was your turn to laugh as he read your intentions like a book. Your gaze briefly shifted to Grillby who was busying himself with polishing glasses, though clearly listening in. He did not appear opposed to the idea, and so as long as there was no one to protest, who were you to say no?

“Alright, I’m listening. What are we having,  _ bone daddy _ ?” The nickname was clearly a joke, though you did notice the yellow flush over his cheekbones grow bit brighter.

“In that case, Grillbz,” The flaming bartender perked up from refilling liquor bottles, “A Fading Flower for this little minx and a Low Tide on the rocks for me.”

Another brisk nod and the elemental was off mixing your drinks. You peered at his skilled motions, preparing the alcohol with all the grace of a master bartender. The promise of monster alcohol had you practically on the edge your barstool, and G took notice.

“I should probably warn you that monster alcohol can have some...interesting effects.” His tone was nonchalant, but you could tell he was looking to see if you would hesitate. If anything he was only feeding your curiosity.

“Really…? Let me guess, the particular effects of my drink are a surprise?” You found yourself enjoying the sound of G’s laughter. It was definitely preferred to the troubled expression he wore last night after you broke the news.

“Nobody likes spoilers, so I guess you’ll just have to find out on your own.” He grinned, inclining his head to the drink set before you. You quickly downed your dry martini like it was water, a little disappointed in yourself for not savoring such a superbly made drink in favor of monster alcohol. But how could you resist the new martini set before you? The liquid was an opaque, golden hue, almost like the eyelight of the skeleton beside you. Floating atop the drink were two perfectly placed golden flower petals to match. It was like a work of art in a glass, its simplicity appealing to the eye. G studied you closely as you lifted the glass to your lips, taking a tentative sip.

“Holy shit…” Your mouth was tingling, the subtle floral tones and citrus practically dancing on your tongue. The sparks did not end even after you swallowed your first sip, they continued down your throat and only seemed to spread throughout your body. You took a couple more eager sips in comfortable silence, G continuing to watch with a bemused look about him.

“So it just makes you feel tingly or…?” You were a few sips in and had not noticed much else. It was almost disappointing as you half expected to be floating on the ceiling by now.

“Patience is a virtue, ya know? Give it a moment…”

As if on cue you started feel a strange new sensation, as though someone were gently pinching and plucking at your skin. It was not painful, but definitely unusual. At first you felt it around the crown of your head, then your neck. Curious, you brought your fingers to your throat and were met with a brush of delicate velvetine. You plucked lightly at the thin material, the sensation painless, only to find a few petals in your hand. They were slightly larger than the ones still floating in your drink, but just as vivid in their golden hue.

“I...I’m growing flowers, aren’t I?”

“ _ Petal _ ya the truth...well, look for yourself.” The pun drew a smile on your lips, despite how terrible it was. G pulled out his phone and flipped on the front facing camera, turning it to you so you could see your new blossoms with your own eye.

“ _ Santa merda… _ ” You breathed, bringing a hand up to cover your gaping mouth. Encompassing your head was a crown of yellow flowers, larger than a daisy with plump petals and a dazzling golden hue. They circled your neck as well, and a few were sprouting down your arms. There was even one on your left cheek now too. You were so enraptured with the effects of the magic now coursing through your body that did you not even notice the subtle flicker of the screen and soft click. With a grin, the skeleton lowered his phone and shrugged.

“Yellow’s a nice color on you, doll.” By the way he winked at you, you knew there was some sort of innuendo that you could not for the life of you figure out. At least not with a martini and now monster alcohol in your system. You waved off his remark with a hand, though your cheeks reddened nonetheless.

“So,” You rummaged in your coat pocket, pulling out a pack of MS Chiare and tapping out a cigarette. The bitter smell of smoke was already fragrant in the air from other patrons scattered about the bar, so you assumed it was allowed. All the while G eyed you with interest as you dug through another pocket for your lighter, brows furrowed. He quickly went through his own jacket, producing a lighter and holding it out for you, already igniting the flame. There was something gentlemanly about the gesture that had you smiling as you leaned in closer and cupped your hand around his. The bone felt oddly warm to the touch, not quite as heated as flesh, but warm and there was a slight vibration to it if you focused hard enough.

“I’m not going to be a chia pet forever, am I?” You leaned back once the end of your cigarette was lit, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke away from the bar. Your skeleton companion also saw fit to light up a cigarette of his own, though you had to wonder if it had the same effect for him as it did on the human body.

“Nah, they’ll fall off on their own and turn to dust eventually.” Smoke curled out from between his teeth as he chuckled, dispersing above your heads. There was something melancholy about such delicate blossoms withering away in no time, but you pushed the thought aside.

“What about your drink, hm? What the effect of that?” You officially found this monster alcohol business fascinating.

“The ocean...you can hear it, practically feel the waves rocking your body.” The way he purred those words made the experience sound much more intimate than you expected. G allowed his eye sockets to close, and you could only imagine he was listening to what he described as he took another sip.

“...You’ve never seen the ocean, have you?” The question withdrew him from his daydreaming, refocusing his attention to you.

“That’s right, doll. Your government pretty much has us quarantined in this goddamn city. Indefinitely.”

You nodded, a slight frown on your lips at the sensitive change in topic. There was a strict travel ban on monsters at the moment until their magic capabilities could be fully assessed, or rather suppressed. You knew the human race was terrified of the new species, concerned that they would be vengeful for their entrapment centuries ago. Who was to say they would not crash a plane or train with their magic out of spite? Somehow you doubted they were so cruel, but no one was willing to take the chance.

“You all might be above ground now, but this city is as good as a prison…”

It was more of a thought to yourself, but G growled in agreement. He was clearly agitated by the subject.

“...Do you enjoy card games?”

For once he looked taken aback, confused and yet curious by the sudden shift in conversation.

“I’ve played a few, why? Going to challenge me to a game? I’ll warn ya, I’ve got a mean poker face.”

Shaking your head, you leaned down in your seat, a handful of petals scattering to the floor off your person in the process. You snapped open your briefcase and from its depth you produced a case of cards. But they were not ordinary playing cards. With a practiced hand and cigarette between your lips, you pulled out the deck and began shuffling the cards, the box discarded on the bartop. Your eye never left G as you began to slowly slide the deck across the counter in an arching fan of cards.

“Not that kind of game, bone daddy….” You laughed, eyeing him carefully. Once the deck was spread to the final card you allowed your hand to blindly hover over them. G leaned in a bit closer with interest.

“Do you believe in fate?” He cocked his head in amusement at your question, an undignified snort passing through his nasal cavity.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a man of science, and I tend to live more in the moment. You going to read my future, doll?” Though G leaned casually against the bar, looking bemused, you did see some tension in his shoulders, apprehension. You took another drag from the cigarette in your free hand while the other pulled three cards from the arch, drawing them down into a straight line.

“Hmm…” A soft hum passed your lips as you looked down at the cards you chose, face down. “Something like that, perhaps. Of course, fate, in the end, is entirely what you make it to be. 

_ Niente è scolpito nella pietra. _ Nothing is set in stone.”

At your words, G stiffened his face growing rather serious as he glanced to Grillby from the corner of his eye. Was the fire elemental smirking? You were too busy flipping over the three cards you had set aside to notice.

_ Death in reverse...the Ace of Cups...and the Three of Cups. Interesting… _

You reflected on the cards before you, fingers brushing tenderly over their art. Tarot cards always were your fortei, in your blood, one might say.

“Well, what’s the verdict? Will I live to see another day?” It did not bother you that G obviously was not taking this seriously, most did not. But you did find it amusing how accurate the reading was. No doubt he was stressed, resisting the change taking place in his life. He was bottling up his true feelings and forcing a smile to get by. Aside from his hatred for humanity of course, that was evident. But you knew there was little chance of the monster race surviving if they could not find some support in these trying time. With a sigh you compiled your deck and slipped them into their case.

“Act with compassion and you’ll find success.” Standing, you grabbed your briefcase, producing enough cash from your wallet to cover your bill with a nice tip. You took one last drag on your cigarette before snuffing it out on the small tray Grillby provided. Gingerly you placed a hand on the smooth leather covering his shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to murmur one last word of advice, “Drop the tough guy facade and you might just find there are those out there willing to help you.”

On that note, you turned on your heel and made your way out towards the door.

“W-wait!” G was clearly unnerved by your words, which you found only too satisfying, “I never caught your name!”

“That’s because I never said it.” With one last grin tossed his way you left the bar and returned to the open air. A final few golden petals were swept from your hair as you wrapped your jacket around your form once more. The entire experience had proven to be far more enlightening than you originally anticipated, but you found renewed resolve to help that poor fool and his people.

* * *

Across town a cell door was being opened, several armed guards at the ready as they led the prisoner out of maximum security. A few other inmates leered as the group passed, tossing out slurs and beating against the bars of their cells. The entire scene was...disturbing.

“I beg your pardon, but may I ask what this is all about?”

“Well,  _ king _ , looks like you have a visitor. Surprised a murderous piece of shit like you is getting any at all...but a human no less, tch.”

That was certainly shocking. The former king would have bet he would have seen his ex-wife or one of the skeleton brother before he saw anyone else. And a human? He found himself somewhat suspicious. The Dreemurr family had no interactions with humans, outside of violence.

_ Unless… _

Rounding a few more corners, one of the guards unlocked the door to the visitation room before roughly pushing the goat monster through, his large frame just barely passing. The new space was cleanly divided by a wall of booths down the middle, each containing a telephone and glass dividing the visitor from the prisoner. Guards littered both sides of the room, on high alert now that a monster was present. He was led over to the only booth seemingly in use this late in the day, taking a seat in the small folding chair provided. As his eyes settled on his guest, he let out a bitter laugh and picked up the phone.

“Yes, I thought it might be you.”

“ _ Buon pomeriggio _ , Asgore Dreemurr. Just thought I’d pay you a friendly visit.”

“Luciano Armati.” Asgore shook his head, careful to use the family’s cover name. “And here I thought you would want nothing to do with me after all this mess.”

“You have my daughter to thank for this, it was not my decision. The girl is still too soft for this world.” Luciano reclined in his chair, free hand smoothing over his slicked back hair. Even in such a dreary place as a prison the man still carried himself as though he ran the joint. He was not even the boss of his family anymore, the title passed onto his only child, but he never lost the aura of power and mercilessness. It was a trait Asgore still failed to find within himself. Perhaps it was not only Luciano’s daughter that was still too soft.

“Oh? And here I figured that the art deal with one of my employees would fall through with the news.”

“Rest assured it did, Dreemurr. It would be in poor taste to sell to those associated with a criminal.” The hulking goat monster wilted like a flower at those words. He had allotted himself a sliver of hope that the deal might have still gone through, that his people had the means to protect themselves. But he was always the optimistic fool.

“However, as I said, my daughter is too kind...stubborn even.” Luciano chuckled, brushing some imaginary dust off the sleeve of his grossly expensive suit.

“Reminds me of  my late child, Chara. They were always the little spitfire, full of determination.” His laughter was halfhearted at the bittersweet memory. Though the monster race was trapped underground, miserable, the years he shared together with his wife and two children were some of his happiest memories. What he would not give to go back to simpler times…

“Well, I offered to lend a hand and she agreed, by whatever means necessary. Her concern for your people is rather endearing, no?” Asgore let the rhetorical question slide as Luciano reached down beside him. The shuffling of papers could be heard until the man produced a manila folder, which he held before the glass.

“What do you say to a revised deal? Due to these...unfortunate circumstances,” He gestured vaguely to Asgore’s prisoner attire with a slight frown, “we are unable to offer any of our collection to you. But if we were to, say...combine our establishments we would have equal access to each others stock, no deals necessary.”

Asgore’s eyes widened at the proposition. From where he stood now, he was no longer the head of the Dreemurr family, the title informally passed to Aster and G. He trusted the boys with his very life, knew that (assuming they were not so reluctant) they would run the family well without him. But with the threat of enemy mafia organizations pressing in and the police watching their every move, there remained little hope if they continued to act on their own.

“My flower shop...and your family’s art gallery, yes?” Luciano simply nodded, watching the cogs practically turning in the monster’s head as he debated with himself. Did Asgore have the right to make such a deal anymore? Those two would spite him until he was dust, and likely long after. But in agreeing to the arrangement he could protect his people. It was his duty as don...no, as the King of Monsters.

“You are aware I have two employees running my shop at the moment, so which…?”

“Do not sweat the smaller details, I will let my daughter deal with that when the time comes.” Through a small cutout at the bottom of the glass, Luciano slid the paperwork and a pen across the booth’s table. Asgore flipped open the folder with some difficulty due to his cuffed hands, eyes quickly scanning the paperwork. Of course, it was all strictly coded to appear as nothing more than a merging agreement, but he understood what it actually entailed.

“You will care for my shop, yes?  _ Every flower? _ ” Despite sitting in prison, in chains and completely subdued, Luciano still felt a slight chill at those words. It was evident Asgore cared dearly for his people, his own life be damned. As long as they were safe, he would be satisfied.

“I promise you,” Luciano leaned forward, fingers gripping the edge of the booth’s table as he met the goat monster eye to eye, “Not a single flower will wilt under our watch. Not one petal will fall. You have my family’s word.”

Silence fell between them as Asgore studied the old man’s face, looking for any sign of a lie. Could he really trust a human? The lives of his people were at stake, their future resting on his signature. It was his only desire to protect them, to see them truly free to live their lives on the surface in peace. Would this agreement bring about that bright future, or only lead them to ruin?

It was a risk he was willing to take.

The soft click of a pen and scratching on paper was almost deafening in the visitor room. With a firm nod, Asgore closed the folder and passed it back to Luciano.

“ _ Va bene _ , you will not regret this.” He tucked the folder back into his briefcase, “And perhaps, with any luck, you’ll live to see the deal officially sealed.”

Luciano stood, smoothing out the fabric of his suit. At this point he would have shook the former boss’ hand, but considering the glass between them he opted for a brisk nod before taking his leave. Asgore watched his departing back with despondence in his gaze. Was this the right decision?

_ Forgive me, boys... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I actually did a tarot reading for G and those were the cards I got. I figured, why just choose the cards I want him to have when I can read them myself? And I have to say I'm pretty pleased with their accuracy in what I have planned for the story.
> 
> Sadly, no Aster in this chapter, however we will be focusing on him and the reader in the next, so look forward to that!
> 
> ...Also, Saccharachnid. Saccharine? Arachnid? Ba-dum tsss. I thought that was clever as hell. And, yes, that drink was a subtle nod to Flowerfell, just leave me with my feelings.


	4. Ogni paese al valent'uomo è patria.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which fate torments and shots are fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whips out Crusty Meme™* Surprise, bitch. Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. *finger guns*
> 
> So...it's been a while. Like a long fuckin' while. I could sit here and prattle on excuses, but the reality is mental health stuff happened and I just have a habit of investing myself too much in hobbies and then I burn out fast. But Undertale never fails to be a fandom I keep crawling back to. So here I am once again and I do apologize for the delay. There is a surprise at the end of the chapter to make up for it, as I promised months ago in a reply to a comment. It's not that great...but it's something sooo... *vague shrug*
> 
> Originally this chapter was supposed to be at least two more scenes, but it got to be so incredibly long that I just decided to break it into two parts. Expect the next to be up soon as I am on a roll.
> 
> But without further ado, enjoy the chapter!

_"Great minds agree."_

* * *

 

 

Smoke curled idly in the early morning rays which leaked through the heavy curtains within the skeleton brothers’ humble apartment. All was still in the dawn’s silence, save for one soul. It was a peculiar sight for the eldest brother to be awake before his junior, more often than not he preferred to sleep past noon. Yet this particular morning he woke restless with the sun. Thoughts drifted continually back to events of previous days, despite how he attempted to distract himself. Staring listlessly at his bedroom ceiling certainly did not help either. The least he could do was start nursing his hangover, severe as it was with the amount of booze he had consumed the previous night. Thus after detangling himself from his sheets and latest...distraction, G pulled on some black boxers and made his way into the kitchen. With a cup of steaming black coffee in hand and a cigarette clenched between his teeth he willed his body and mind to relax. Though this was easier said than done. Sighing, the skeleton ran a bony hand down his face, phalanges gently massaging his temple by his damaged eye.

 

“What the hell am I gonna do…?”

 

Though his voice was hardly above a whisper to himself, G found his words deafening with the same nagging question. Perhaps it was the weight they carried, the hopelessness. Clearly alcohol and other less than pure activities could not counter his anxiety for long. Monsters were still in danger, and every moment he was at a loss for a solution was another moment they went unprotected. Even as the Judge, with his fearsome reputation, and as acting head of the Dreemurr family with his brother, he could only do so much. At this point he was half tempted to summon a massive wall of bone around their territory and hope for the best, magic ban be damned. But even such a ridiculous plan as that would only delay the inevitable. Monsters would be wiped out with little trouble, and G knew he would be to blame.

 

_Well...if all else fails the kid could just-_

 

G slammed his clenched fist onto the breakfast bar’s counter where he sat with enough force to send a splash of coffee across the surface. A few choice swears escaped him as he hurried to grab a towel to soak up the mess before his brother woke and chewed him out. At least he did not crack the granite again. He always found it difficult to control his emotions when he recollect what he could of the past...the resets. His memory was patchy at best, _the accident_ having torn holes into his mind, his soul, his very _being_. Now it was as though someone had spilled ink across him, smudges of black obscuring the person he used to be. Attempting to dwell on the past for more than a few moments was not only futile, but borderline physically painful to try and pry into locked away memories. Doing so only furthered the migraine from his hangover. But one fact G could recall without fail was that the human ambassador, Frisk, was capable of resetting the timeline of their existence. It would be a clean slate, Underground once more.

 

However, would it be worth losing everything? Monsters were dying, being dusted in the streets, but could he ask Frisk to rip away the life on the surface they had all come to know as though it had never happened? G inhaled what remained of his cigarette, enjoying the feeling of smoke curling behind his ribs as he mulled over the idea.

 

“Nah…” He knew better, knew that Frisk would never be willing to reset once more. They promised, swore on their soul, that they never would use their power again. _This was why he never made promises_. With a pained grunt, G discarded his spent butt in an ashtray and reclined in his bar stool, headache spiking. He needed another distraction.

 

Off to the side of the counter rested his discarded phone where he had tossed it last night not having wanted anyone to spoil his good time. Now he found himself flicking the screen on and quickly unlocking the device to access his photos. With a bit of scrolling he managed to find what he was looking for. Rarely did G recall much after he had several shots in him, but he distinctly remembered yesterday’s encounter at Grillby’s. Part of him thought it to be nothing more than a drunken fantasy, but the photo gracing his phone proved otherwise. A slight smirk tugged at his mouth, warding off some of his miserable mood.

 

“Damn…”

 

It would haunt him for weeks, missing the chance to get that minx’s number, or at least her name. But the tease had bounced before his inebriated ass got the chance, much to his disappointment now. Maybe it was just utter intoxication, but that chance meeting had stirred something within him. The way the dim bar lights glinted off her hair like satin threads, that heated look in her eye and the spark they held when she smiled...he had been under her spell like no other. When the flowers began to blossom on her person she appeared like a force of nature, wild and unruly. His soul shuddered at the mere thought and G absentmindedly rubbed his bare sternum to soothe it. She was an enigma, a mystery he was determined to unravel should he encounter her again. It would not be completely impossible to track her down, not with the resources he had access to. Though that did seem a bit too much like a stalker for his taste, but if he could just-

 

“It’s unusual to see you up at this hour, brother.”

 

Aster’s sudden intrusion nearly scared G out of his skin, if he had flesh to begin with that is. Instead he fumbled with his phone, an undignified yelp as his greeting. His younger brother arched his brow bone with amusement as he prepared himself a cup of earl grey tea. It was not often that he saw his brother startled.

 

“Heh, mornin’.” G sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck, eyelight downcast as he attempted to regain some composure. “Just restless is all. Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

 

The brothers exchanged a knowing look and G noted the discoloration below Aster’s eyes. Sleep appeared to be evading him as well. Neither voiced reason for their distress, having discussed the matter at length for hours now. It was borderline maddening, their inability to come up with a viable solution. For a moment, the air was tense with unspoken words.

 

“Your cheeks are flushed, are you unwell? Or is it just hair of the dog?”

 

And now the tension was replaced with embarrassment. G immediately brought a hand to cover his face, though the golden glow still peeked through his phalanges. Perhaps he could have done with spiking his coffee. Aster’s soft chuckle at his abashed response only deepened the blush staining his cheekbones.

 

“S-something like that...Anyway, what are your plans for the day? I was thinking of hitting up Undyne to discuss some sort of temporary safety measures.”

 

Aster refrained from calling out his brother’s poor attempt at dodging the subject as they moved onto more pressing matters. Adjusting the cuffs on his plaid pajamas, he sighed,

 

“I’ll be spending the day at the library, studying the human judicial system.”

 

“Sounds...fascinating?” G snorted while his brother merely rolled his emerald eyelight, taking a long sip of his tea. Normally Aster was a bookworm, far preferring the company of a lengthy novel to a night at the bar like his brother. But the unpleasant subject matter was a damper on his plans for the day. However, the excursion was necessary and he was half prepared to move into the library if that was what it took to educate himself. He would not let Asgore take the fall for these false accusations, not without a hell of a fight. It was fortunate verbal debates were his specialty, rather than physical altercations. He left those to G.

 

“Perhaps I can find some sort of loophole, or at least a more calculated way to approach-”

 

“Mornin’, skelebabe.”

 

Aster’s words all but died behind his teeth and he did his best to somewhat contain his groan. Needless to say he was not fond of his brother’s evening activities. It was a bit surprising to see that this was not a usual monster hookup, but a human woman. She sauntered into the kitchen, hips swinging where they were barely hidden beneath one of G’s black dress shirts. A subtle emerald blush dusted Aster’s cheekbones and he averted his gaze, falling silent.

 

“I was hoping for round three this morning, but you already slipped away. A girl gets lonely, ya know?”

 

She practically purred as she lingered behind G, arms slipping over his bare shoulders to let her fingers trail lightly over his exposed ribs. At least he was no longer quite so flustered, his face trained into his usual confident smirk as a pleased growl escaped him. His phalanges curled into her dark locks as he turned back to meet her lips.

 

“Gotta hop in the shower, doll, but feel free to join me.”

 

He could feel her grin against his teeth and she quickly scampered back to his room with an excited giggle. Shamelessly he watched as she bounded away, the back of his shirt riding up with her steps to reveal her bare ass. Even in his drunken state, he still had impeccable taste. A sharp sigh drew his attention from her retreating form, Aster clearly perturbed by the unexpected company. Though, really, at this point he should have been accustomed to it.

 

“She’ll be gone by the time I return, yes?”

 

G let out a yawn with a lazy stretch like some sort of skeletal cat. A noncommittal shrug was the only reply he gave as he slipped off the bar stool and shuffled back to his room. Aster’s brow creased with annoyance as he picked up the abandoned coffee mug and dumped it in the sink. He vaguely recalled a time where his brother constantly looked out for him and assured all his needs were met. G still cared deeply for him of course, but nowadays Aster felt more like his mother, cleaning up after him and disapproving of his behavior.

 

Still, he found himself washing both their breakfast dishes before heading to his own bedroom to prepare for the day.

 

* * *

 

People bustled about the streets of Ebott City in the late morning light, off to whatever job or activity they had planned. From where you were perched on the window seat of the local library’s fifth floor they appeared like ants, faces nondescript. It was refreshing to observe the populace outside of your work. The apprehension and fear that accompanied your position as Don did not go unnoticed, and while you understood it was a necessary fear, you still preferred to see your people smiling. Casual days like these were your favorite for that reason. There were no business suits, no violence or threats, just leisure. Being allowed to dress casually was also an added bonus. You snuggled deeper into your cable knit sweater dress, the soft red fabric casting a flush across your cheeks. Even your eyepatch of choice for the day was considerably more comfortable, a simple white cotton square attached with white ribbon from each corner. You were the definition of comfort today, all you needed were a pair of slippers and you would be set.

 

Despite the chaos of the past few days, you had no plans for the day. Matteo was busy gathering information and your father had yet to touch base with you on the matter of protecting Monsters. All of the smaller tasks of a mafia family were being carried out by various captains and their crews, leaving you free for the day. Normally you would be going mad with inactivity, but now it was an acceptable reprieve. Your only plan for the day was to stop by Saccharachnid for its opening day, as promised. Not that you would even consider going back on your word, the sweets Muffet had gifted being addicting. You and Matteo had shared the bag in minutes the prior night over paperwork. He specifically requested you pick up more spider donuts during your visit.

 

However, it was still rather early in the day and your breakfast had yet to settle. The cafe could wait until the afternoon. Instead you chose to pass the hours at the library, perusing the European poetry section for the millionth time. The library was a monument of your childhood, having frequented the place weekly with your mother. The building stood on neutral territory along with the park, hospital, and public school. It was hands down the safest place in the city. Not a single family dared to break the universal agreement that turf wars were off-limits within the area. You had many happy memories of hours spent in the poetry section, sitting in the same spot you were now on your mother’s lap as she lulled you to sleep with sweet words. Her voice was soft, melodic almost, and you swore you could still hear it ring gently in your ear. If ghosts were real, the human variety, not the monster, then you hoped her spirit drifted here often. Sometimes you could still sense her presence at your side.

 

Lazily, your gaze drifted back to the weathered copy of classical Italian proverbs within your lax grasp. The pages were faded yellow and the corner dogeared, but you still cherished the book. It had been a favorite since childhood and you used to laugh with your mother at some of the more ridiculous sayings. Though you had the words almost memorized by heart, you always found yourself returning to the book for nostalgia’s sake.

 

Engrossed as you were, you hardly noticed the shuffle of books on the shelf just to the left of you. It was not until a few stray words of muttering caught your ear that you withdrew yourself from your reading.

 

“...Darkness is gone from the night...and light returns in the early morning…”

 

The familiar words tugged a smile to your lips. It was an Italian poem, a rather famous contemporary one at that. This one also happened to be one of your favorites, speaking of what remains even with the changes life brings. You read it often after your mother’s passing.

 

“...after Winter, Spring begins.”

 

“ _Ogni cosa muore per rinascere.”_ The words flowed from your lips without a second thought, as though instinctive. But you managed to catch yourself before the rest of the poem slipped out, a hand resting over your mouth. It was rather rude to simply intrude upon a stranger’s time, and you firmly believed poetry to be an private activity, almost spiritual. It was why you appreciated the section being tucked away on the library’s fifth floor.

 

Yet here you were, cutting into a stranger’s musings to run your mouth.

 

“I, um, my apologies, I just…” You were not one to be easily embarrassed, but the silence of the library and shelf of books separating you made the entire situation all the more awkward. The shuffling seemed to have stilled on the other side of the shelf and you wondered if the stranger was irritated by your intrusion. You know you likely would have been.

 

“No...do continue.” A gentle voice drifted past the stacked books with a formal, yet somewhat timid cadence. There was no irritation in his words, rich voice almost soothing.

 

“Oh, well...Figli generano figli e se la vita passa come un soffio di vento, l’uomo nel ricordo resta, scintilla eterna.” You paused, a fluttering breath filling your lungs. That was the right poem, yes? “Scintilla Eterna”, or “Eternal Spark”, was one of your favorites, but there were so many others as well. You could have easily been mistaken and made a fool of yourself to a stranger. Your cheeks felt heated at the thoughts and the few moments of silence that ensued seemed to stretch for eternity.

 

“...Children generate children and if life passes as a gust of wind man in his remembrance remains eternal spark.”

 

Perhaps it was biased, but you always thought the poem sounded far more melodic and stirring in the original Sicilian or Italian. But when the English translation echoed back to you between the old bindings of books you felt your heart clench. You fell quiet, allowing the words to sink in and you could not help but wonder if you had shared the same silence when you recited just before.

 

“And I thought I was the only one left musing over these dusty old tomes.” It was difficult to miss the passion behind the voice, a clear appreciation for poetry. There was a soft chuckle at your remark that plucked a smile from your lips.

 

“I suppose you could say that. Growing up...I did not have access to such an extensive selection of literature. But now I find myself determined to read through this entire library in my spare time...poetry seemed a good place to start.”

 

No access? The detail stuck out in your mind and left you wondering where this stranger came from. Foreigner? Perhaps even a Monster? You were certainly becoming better acquainted with the species as of late. Well, “better” might be an exaggeration. You were still fairly certain if G had known your true identity he would have driven a bone through you, and not in the pleasurable way.

 

“In that case, if I could make a few recommendations, I would say Anna Piutti. Second shelf in, fifth row down. You might also like Giacomo Leopardi, third shelf, fourth row. His poem “To Spring” always leaves me breathless.”

 

There was a rustle of fabric and you imagined your fellow bibliophile kneeling to peruse the sections you indicated. It might have been a bit odd for you to know exactly where those particular works could be located, but they did not comment. You could hear the soft shift of covers being slipped from their place, only to be slid back in once more with a soft huff of annoyance. It was evident they were having trouble navigating the packed shelves, spines bearing titles mostly in various European languages.

 

“Here,” Kneeling as well, you slipped your hand over the books, reaching through the backless shelf to the opposing one, “down here, this one I think, and another two books to the left.”

 

“Ah, thank you,” If you peered through the shelf you almost thought you saw a bit of green and black, but otherwise there was not much to be seen of your stranger at this distance, “I’m afraid I’m not well-versed in most of these languages.”

 

Just as his words trailed off, you felt something brush against your fingers where they rested on the indicated books. You flinched a bit at the unexpected contact, surprised not only by the sudden sensation, but in that it was incredibly firm...yet still resembled slender fingers.

 

_No way…_

 

There was a chance you were just overanalyzing the brief touch, it had only been a moment. But if you were to guess what living bone felt like, the warm porcelain sensation you just experience would have been it. The voice did not match that of G’s, though, so it had to be another skeleton monster, if your suspicions were correct. And skeleton monsters were not exactly common in Ebott City.

 

This just might be the mysterious younger brother you had heard rumors about. "The Doctor", was it?

 

No, no, you had had enough of skeletons for at least a week after your encounter at the bar. Guilt was still eating away at you over the deal falling through, even though it could not have been helped. Spending time with monsters was not exactly easing the unwarranted feeling. If fate had intentions of throwing you together once again, then it was time to put your foot down if only to give your conscience some reprieve.

 

“Most of the novels have English translations paired with them, though I find some to be rather rough at best.” You slipped your fingers back from the shelf with rushed words, standing in a manner you prayed did not seem too sudden. “I hope you enjoy them, but rarely can one go wrong with poetry, ya know? Perhaps I’ll...see you around.”

 

And with that you slipped the novel you had been reading back in its proper place on the shelf and scurried out of the library, leaving a rather flustered monster behind. It may have been rude, but what were the chances you would run into each other again? Unlikely, at least not anytime soon. Little did you know in your hurry to get out that your stranger had peered after you in your wake from the small aisle of books, curious about your abrupt disappearance. Only a sliver of a red sweater and a few trailing locks of hair could be seen before you passed beyond the door of the poetry section to the fifth floor’s main hall. An emerald eyelight glanced back into the aisle you previously occupied, noting the black pea coat left behind. Well, that was no good, being that it was nearing late fall and winter’s chill was already settling in. Phalanges curled around the heavy fabric, plucking it from its heap on the window seat.

 

“Wait, miss!”

 

But you had already dodged into the elevator, much to your pursuer’s frustration. The stairs were always an option, long strides making them nearly as fast of a trip, assuming you were heading for the ground floor. Timed correctly you could be caught just outside the library.

 

“Stairs it is.”

 

* * *

 

 

The streets bustled with afternoon activity. Families and business folk hurrying to grab lunch or head to their next destination. You took the steps down to the sidewalk two at a time, eager to put a bit of space between you and another awkward encounter.

 

“Miss, please, a moment!”

 

_Porca miseria…._

 

So much for slipping away unnoticed. You were about to turn and confront your fate when something caught your eye. A glint of light by one of the noble lion statues decorating the front of the library. At first you assumed it just to be the sun reflecting off the polished bronze. But you were wrong, and as realization struck you, you found yourself charging as fast as possible in your little ballet flats.

 

The gunman did not even see you coming, far too focused on lining up his target. His face was set rigid in concentration, dark eyes narrowed. The gun you initially thought to be aimed at you was more accurately directed slightly to the left. You were not the target, but that did not matter. This man had a gun locked and loaded in neutral territory and you would be damned if you just let him take his mark.

 

Clearly, the poor fool did not expect a young woman to be the one to take him down. But before becoming Don, before even being an official member of the mafia family, you were trained in self defense as a child. Part of the training just so happened to include disarming weapons aimed in your general direction. It was not effective for anything larger than a handgun, however the gunman you faced now had chosen to be discreet in broad daylight.

 

He did not even see you coming before it was far too late.

 

_BANG!_

 

You narrowly managed to deflect his aim from where it was now directed at your head to harmlessly fire into the sky. It had been a breath away from blowing your remaining eye away, and likely a significant chunk of your gray matter as well. Lady Fortuna was certainly on your side today. Quickly, you grabbed his hand in a vice grip, twisting until you heard a sickening snap of fragile bone and the gun slipped from his grasp. With the pain he hardly even fought back as you swiftly curled his arm down behind his back and shoved him to the ground with all your body weight. There was another disturbing pop and scream as his shoulder jutted out at an odd angle beneath his black denim jacket. From where you now knelt on his lower back, effectively incapacitating him, you could not find a shred of pity for his pain.

 

“Bad idea.” Through gritted teeth you leaned over him, pressing his injured arm further into its unnatural position, much to the gunman’s distress, “This is neutral territory, _stronzo_.”

 

There were screams echoing all around you, people running for their lives, but all you could focus on was the rapid, uneven breaths of the man beneath you. His cheek was pressed into the pavement, and you could see his eyes now wide with fury, but not madness. No sane man would make a calculated hit in broad daylight. If he had truly lost his mind he would have been firing at random, simply desiring casualties. But the attack was too discreet, clearly planned, which led you to believe he was not working alone. This was clearly a hit for a family, one intended to send a message to the public, but not on you. You could take a wild guess just at who and the strangled laughter issuing from the gunman as his gaze settled just beyond you only confirmed your conclusion.

 

“ _Aut neca aut necare_ , those monster bastards will get what’s coming to them. Their fate is sealed.”

 

Just to shut him up, you rammed his arm with a little more of your weight. However, the gunman appeared to be preoccupied with something in his mouth and you noticed a moment too late. He continued to laugh, spitting out a fake tooth beside him. It only took a moment for the cyanide pill to take effect and foam begin to leak from his mouth, body spasming in protest to the poison. You watched, almost transfixed as the life left his eyes until they just glazed over like a dead fish to stare blankly towards the library. Even though there was no point in remaining on him you found yourself frozen in place, mind racing. The Latin phrase still echoed in your ear…”Either kill or be killed”. Something about it was almost familiar, but you could not for the life of you place it.

 

“Stars, Miss, are you alright…?!”

 

A gentle touch on your shoulder stirred you and you managed to tear your gaze from the corpse in your grasp. You blinked once, twice, before registering the skeleton now crouched by your side. His single emerald eyelight scoured your face before fixating on a spot on your left cheekbone, expression incredibly serious.

 

“You’re bleeding. Please, allow me…” Reaching within the pocket of his black trench coat, the monster produced a handkerchief, deep forest green in color. You barely managed to catch the delicate “A” embroidered in silver thread at one corner before it was firmly pressed against your cheek. You hissed as the pain began to register. His free hand came to hold your chin steady in place so as not to tug at the wound.

 

“...Oh…” Was all you could manage, the adrenaline in your system still stupefying your thought process.

 

“Not to worry, miss, the bullet merely grazed you. You are incredibly lucky, that much I can say.”

 

Slowly you released your hold on the gunman’s body, willing your muscles to relax and focus on the skeleton before you. Extremely close before you. Even G had maintained of a distance and from here you could see the subtle texture of bone and the jagged cracks. Cracks identical to those that marred G as well. However, the shape of this skeleton’s face was slightly longer, features somewhat sharper. His damaged right eye, lightless as well, drooped down a bit farther until nearly it was completely shut. Unlike G, his expression was far more gentle, despite his more angular skull. The similarities were still uncanny and you would bet your title as godmother that this was G’s brother.

 

So much for giving fate the ol’ _vaffanculo._

 

A gentle sigh passed your lips as your fingers came to rest over his at your cheek. Beneath you touch the bone felt warm, with a slight give and an extremely subtle vibration you could only assume was magic. You could feel him flinch at the contact, not unlike yourself moments before.

 

“Thank you, Mister…?” Calling him “Doctor” outright would probably be a bit too suspicious, thus you opted for polite introductions. A vivid green flush rose to his cheekbones at your appreciation and realization as to how close you were. His bones jolted back completely from your touch and you only just managed to catch the handkerchief before it slipped from your wound.

 

“...Aster.” His now free hand retracted to hide his shining cheeks behind his sleeve in a way you almost found endearing. It was clear he was far less forward than his brother, taking a moment to give you ample space and collect himself.

 

“It was no trouble, I assure you. In fact, I should be thanking you. Few would charge in to take down an armed man without a second thought. Not that I condone the behavior necessarily, that was incredibly dangerous. However, with the magic ban there was little I could do, thus, I am grateful. Not, of course, for you getting injured. Naturally, I feel terrible about that, miss, absolutely-”

 

You gingerly placed your hand on his arm, instantly putting an end to his babbling. His blush only deepened with embarrassment for rambling, but you merely smiled.

 

“Armati.”

 

“O-oh, Miss Armati, yes.” He blinked, lowering his sleeve to reveal a kind smile as the green slowly fade. “I cannot thank you enough for your actions today. Were it not for you, there very well could have been a blood bath.”

 

You decided it best not to point out that he had clearly been the target, assuming he was simply unaware or choosing to ignore it for discretion.

 

“Well, it was not completely free of casualties, I’m afraid.” Inclining your head to the body still beneath you, Aster took a sharp breath. He stumbled to his feet, gently taking you by the arm to draw you back with him. Now at his side you did not know why you assumed he would be shorter than G just because he was younger. Age was hardly an indicator of size even for humans, and clearly the same applied to monster. Where G stood a little more than six feet, Aster was easily pushing seven and you were dwarfed in comparison.

 

“How tragic.” At your confused glance he returned a sad smile. Was he honestly mourning his potential murderer? “A loss of life is a loss of life, despite his actions this man was alive, no doubt with a family.”

 

_Yeah, some family, that’s for sure…_

 

You had to hold your tongue from expressing your thoughts aloud. This entire situation practically screamed of mafia activity, you had little doubt. The gunman was probably a crew member or some hired hitman of an associate. But the question was, which family? You nudged the corpse onto its back with your shoe (much to Aster’s detest) and saw no insignia, not a ring or pin. There was no indication of mafia, but that only furthered your suspicions. It was too clean, too calculated. It would be best to call this incident in yourself, just to be safe.

 

“I’ll get a hold of the police,” You informed Aster, turning your back for some semblance of privacy as you typed in your private line to the police chief. Being the godmother had its perks, and one was having a hand in law enforcement, with the proper incentive, of course.

 

“Yes, I would like to report an attempted shooting in front of the Ebott Public Library on fifth avenue.” The Chief, Arthur Miller, sighed as you prattled on as though you were talking to a dispatcher.

 

“What trouble has your damn family gotten into now, _Armati_? And in neutral territory no less.”

 

You bristled at his insult, but trained your emotions to not draw suspicion from your skeletal companion.

 

“Yes, _ma’am_ , the shooter was staking out a position by the statues, I think. He only fired once before he was taken down, but...well, a citizen disarmed him and now he’s not moving. There’s some sort of foam leaking from his mouth...I-I think he’s dead.” Perhaps it was a childish comeback, but you were too busy trying to sound convincing in your victim act.

 

“Dammit, Armati, you better not have killed the guy! That'll cost you extra to cover up, public murders are a messy business" He clicked his tongue before muttering, "...and here I thought you were cleaner than that.”

 

“No, I...well I didn’t see anyone get injured, he only fired once, but the citizen that disarmed him managed to throw off his aim, but they left after he stopped moving...looks like some sort of poison he ingested.”

 

“Like I don’t have enough problems with that goat king, now this…” Miller groaned and you could almost hear him running a calloused hand down his weathered features. “Yeah, you run along and I’ll send someone over to clean things up. I’m expecting double the usual for this, you hear?”

 

“O-okay, please hurry!” The call ended and you rolled your eyes. Yes, you were sure he was incredibly busy imprisoning Don Asgore and leaving an entire species defenseless. Chief Miller was the definition of human scum, always out for his own agenda and personal gain. But you supposed it worked in your favor, he was incredibly easy to bribe after all.

 

With that matter set aside, you turned back to Aster only to be met with a rather severe gaze. He clearly caught your conversation, at least only your words, you hoped. But you met his eye steady, waiting for the accusation.

 

“You lied to the police about taking down the gunman. Why?” Fortunately, it seemed he only heard your little act. With a slight shrug you cast your gaze down to the body by the lion statue, arm still rigid at that disturbing angle. Maybe rigor mortis would set in and he would have to be buried like that. It would serve him right for attacking on neutral ground.

 

“You honestly think they would believe a young woman took down a grown man armed with a gun?” Reluctant understanding overtook Aster’s features, “Besides, it wasn’t all a lie. Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

 

Without hesitation, you gripped his upper arm, just above the elbow and began to lead him away from the scene. He followed you without protest.

 

“I don’t know about you, but surviving a near death experience really takes it out of me. I‘m famished.” The small talk seemed to set the mood somewhat at ease. “There just so happens to be an excellent little cafe opening today, if we cut through the park it’s only a short walk away.

 

“But-” Aster could only sigh as you dragged him along, sirens already wailing in the distance, “...If you insist, Miss Armati.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dash of fluff here, a sprinkle of plot there. Not bad, not bad. Hope my little art accompaniment isn't too awful, it was just a bit of sketching and digital is not my preferred medium. I did draw a (crappy) interpretation of the reader in my mind (who looks nothing like me lol), but this is by no means what she canonically looks like. Obviously because she looks like you, the reader, or however you want her to. Anyway maybe I'll draw up some Aster next, it just wouldn't be fair not to. 
> 
> Next chapter we will see how this little unexpected coffee date unfolds...but something sinister is beginning to stir in the shadows.
> 
> Credit:  
> "Eternal Spark" by Gero Miceli


	5. Ogni verità non è a dire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which understandings are (somewhat) reached and lines are drawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter? So soon? Wild, I know. But I felt inspired, and like I said before in the previous chapter, this was all supposed to be one large chapter. However, I didn't want a 10k+ word chapter so I broke it in half and I honestly rather like the separation to give a bit of lull in the action before some serious conversation.
> 
> DRAMA! ANGST! PLOT! All is to be had, so read on and enjoy! (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

_"All truths are not to be told."_

* * *

 

You were only slightly out of breath by the time you were both well into the park, releasing your deathgrip on Aster’s forearm. It was in your best interest to keep some distance from the scene now that the police sirens were so close. The voice and location scrambler within your phone left your position and identity a secret, but you were still a bit too close for comfort. While you certainly had the police chief in your well-lined metaphorical pocket, you knew that he was not beneath biting the hand that fed him. The fame he could attain through the arrest of the Allegri family’s Don far outweighed the measly sums you were bribing, even at double their usual arrangement. Thus to avoid being taken in for questioning, you made a quick escape with your skeletal companion.

 

Speaking of which, you noticed that Aster was not even winded by your flight, much to your annoyance. Monsters and their ridiculously high stamina…

 

“I’m...not exactly sure that was the most appropriate response to the situation, but I suppose I cannot argue.” There was a slight hint of guilt crossing his boney features. For a mob boss, Aster was definitely on the softer side. It was no wonder to you that his brother handled most of the dirty work. He was almost too pure for this lifestyle.

 

“Yeah, well, dead humans and monsters in the same area don’t exactly make a pretty picture, much as I detest to admit it.” You peered through the park’s trees in the library’s general direction, breath slowly normalizing, “Unless you’d like to spend hours in the police station, I suggest we get moving.”

 

“Touche. After you, then.”

 

With a quick nod you turned back along the winding path through Ebott Park. In the distance you could see children playing, their laughter carrying through the air, and couples walking hand in hand. It was a stark contrast to the scene you just witnessed, but being several blocks away from the shooting there was relative calm. Aster followed quietly at your side like some ridiculously tall shadow. For a brief instant you wondered if you gave the impression of an interracial couple, judging by some of the passing stares you received. It was not exactly common for a human and monster to be together, what with the racial tension throughout the city. But the idea was quickly disregarded as a chilling breeze swept past you. A slight shudder shook your small frame, pain nipping at your fresh wound as the hand still pressed to it trembled from the cold. In all the excitement you had left your jacket back in the library, leaving you in nothing but a sweater dress and leggings. It was hardly enough to combat the chill. However, your discomfort did not go unnoticed.

 

“Oh, I almost forgot.” You glanced to Aster who had paused in his step, “Your jacket, Miss Armati.”

 

Being that you both had a taste for long black coats, you had not even noticed the unusual lump slung over his left shoulder until now. He quickly tugged the fabric off, revealing your pea coat. So that was why he was chasing you down in the first place.

 

“Ah, you grabbed it...Thank you, Aster.” A pale olive blush decorated his cheek bones as you flashed him a grateful smile. He gingerly held out your jacket for you to slip into, which was greatly appreciated as you were still tending to your grazed cheek. You snuggled into the heavy fabric, enjoying the relief from the cold and the subtle warmth that was already contained from Aster’s grasp. Who knew bone generated warmth? Then again, with magic usually anything was possible.

 

Within the few beats of silence that passed between you as you continued to head to your destination you found yourself studying the skeleton from the corner of your eye. His long black trench coat concealed most of his figure, but you could still tell he bore a slender frame. Despite his height he walked with the utmost grace, without even the slightest slouch. Tossed over one shoulder by a strap was a worn leather briefcase. As another gust of wind blew by Aster nestled his face deeper into a heavy green knit scarf wrapped around his neck, hands slipping into his coat pockets. Overall, his demeanor was more gentlemanly than the player his brother tried to be.

 

“ _Saccharachnid._ ” The skeleton cast you a curious glance, head cocked with intrigue, “That’s the cafe’s name. Like I said, it’s just opening today, but I recently became acquainted with the shop’s owner. She’s a spider monster named Muffet.”

 

For a moment Aster remained silent, gaze downcast to the park’s path, scattered with vibrant autumn leaves. At such an angle you found it difficult to see his expression, but there was something slightly tense about him.

 

“...Do you often associate with monsters?” The question caught you off guard and you noted the apprehension in his tone. For some reason you felt a slight bubble of annoyance. You were well aware that human/monster relations were not the finest, but was he lumping you in with racists by default? That was hardly fair, even if his resentment was justified.

 

“And if I do?” Aster merely shrugged, avoiding your perturbed gaze.

 

“It’s just...most humans are not exactly stepping out of their way for the sake of monsters.” Finally he glanced your way and that emerald eyelight bore into you, almost piecing apart your person. “Yet here you are, a human taking a bullet for a monster and then offering to grab a bite at a cafe run by another. It’s rather unusual, you cannot deny that.”

 

_So defensive, just like his brother…_

 

Even G assumed you would rather be sweeping up his dust than sharing a drink in peace with him. You knew the monsters had their reasons behind their assumptions. Trust was rare in this day and age, and when placed in the wrong person one could wind up dead. This was especially true for monsters as most humans were either indifferent to their plight or out to get them. But you were not like most humans, as cliche as that sounded. Hell, you were a woman leading a major mafia family, that was not exactly normal. Still, you could not find it within yourself to blame him for being suspicious, so you stifled your irritation.

 

“Perhaps…” You sighed, pulling the handkerchief from your cheek to check the amount of blood lost before reapplying a clean spot. There would definitely be a permanent stain on the delicate fabric. “But they say you can’t judge a book by its cover. Maybe it’s insensitive for me to say, considering I’m not a monster...but I’d like to think there are still a few good souls out there willing to look beyond outward appearances to do what’s right.”

 

An array of emotions flitted across Aster’s features, ranging from surprise to doubt, and perhaps even intrigue. But eventually he settled back into his reserved expression, guarded, though not quite so cold as moments before.

 

“And is that what you consider yourself to be, Miss Armati? A ‘good soul’ as you say?”

 

You glanced back over your shoulder to him, steadily meeting his gaze as you chose your words carefully.

 

“...No, I don’t. But then again, I don’t consider saving a life to be an act of kindness. It’s human decency, regardless of who’s sake it’s for. I’m no saint, but I’m not about to stand around and let innocent people die when I’m capable of doing something about it.”

 

That was the truth, even though you doubted Aster fell under the “innocent” category, being in the mafia and all. But neither did you. Gods only know the amount of blood you had accumulated on your hands over the years. You were a lot of things: a con artist, a thief, and a murderer, just to name a few. You were the very definition of a criminal, but you were a criminal with morals. There were certain standards you held yourself and those you associated with to. Innocent blood was never to be spilled and your actions were not exclusively for your own benefit, but Ebott City as a whole. In a way you sounded more like a vigilante than a mob boss, but you honestly cared about the people that made up this shithole of a city. If you could use your influence to give them a better lot in life, then you would. Even if that resulted in sullying your own reputation, painting you the villain.

 

Only silence seemed to follow your response and you could not bring yourself to look back at your companion. However it was a far more comfortable quiet and you could only assume Aster was relatively satisfied. So you continued on in mutual peace, simply enjoying the surroundings. The park was a sliver of tranquility inside the city’s usual chaos, the towering trees obscuring most of the buildings aside from skyscrapers. Their spindly branches were now aflame with autumn’s colors making the scenery almost picturesque. It set your soul at ease after such a dangerous encounter. You even found yourself playfully kicking up stray piles of leaves as you walked, a smile settling on your lips. Every now and then you could have sworn you heard the occasional bemused chuckle from just behind you.

 

* * *

 

 

Your steady pace carried you out of the park and a few blocks further until you were back in Allegri territory. At your side Aster appeared to stiffen slightly, eyelight scanning your surroundings and expression guarded once more. Even with the Dreemurr border territory so near, he still appeared on edge.

 

“We’ve arrived, finally. I’m dying for a hot chai or tarantula tart.” Aster started at your words, but quickly settled to appreciate the cafe that now stood before you. The shop looked nearly the same as it did during your previous visit, though now a lacy black sign with the words “GRAND OPENING” delicately printed adorned the front window. Through the slightly tinted glass you could see a fair few customers filling the small cafe. Most were monsters, that much was to be expected, but you did see a human here or there. Some were clearly there just to ogle, but Muffet did not seem to mind from where she worked behind the front counter. You had the impression that as long as they were paying customers they could stare as much as they desired. Aster seemed impressed, though a bit hesitant as his gaze still wavered about the surrounding streets. You watched his eyelight linger in the direction of the monster district, the direction of safety. Yet he steeled himself and took the initiative to open the shop door for you, a soft tinkle of bells chiming for your arrival.

 

“After you, Miss Armati.”

 

“Why, thank you, sir.” There was a slight teasing to your tone which set a soft green glow about his cheekbones once more.

 

Within the shop the soft chatter and clinking of china filled the air. Your senses were assaulted with the most tempting aromas, stronger by at least tenfold compared to you last visit. There were a few curious glances in your general direction, a human and a monster arriving together was rather unexpected. Several monsters only had eyes for the skeleton beside you, clearly familiar with him. You noticed Aster return a few friendly smiles and even gave a nod to a wave from one dog monster couple.

 

“You’d almost think I walked in with a celebrity. How _strange_ , Mister Aster, you're quite popular.” At your taunt the skeleton merely flushed harder, fumbling for words. However he was spared the pressure of responding when Muffet had the chance to acknowledge your arrival.

 

“Miss Armati! You’ve arrived, and with an...unexpected guest, no less.” The spider monster seemed to eye your companion carefully, and you could only guess she knew exactly who you had brought into her shop. There was no denying the reputation of the skeleton brothers. Muffet seemed almost cautious around him, her gaze remaining on him even as she greeted you with a hug.

 

“I would be a fool to miss your grand opening.” You gave Muffet a warm smile, which she readily returned. “Which, I must say, appears to be running quite smoothly.”

 

“Dare I say even better?” Muffet gave a dainty ‘fufufu’ of laughter, hiding her grin behind a hand while another took one yours to lead you about the shop. “I was pleasantly surprised by the number of human customers. Honestly, I had my reservations about the new location, but there has not been a single vandal or heckler to be had.”

 

“Oh, trust me, Miss Muffet.” You laced your fingers with hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “ _No one would dare._ ”

 

A knowing grin was shared between the two of you. You were not outright claiming to be in a position of power in the area, but the promise that she and her shop were in capable hands was easily conveyed.

 

“You spoil me, Miss Armati, please, take a seat.” She led you and Aster over to a window seat for two. However it was then that she noticed the wound that now adorned your cheek. One of her many hands reached out to pluck the handkerchief away, despite your protests. All eight of her eyes widened and her fangs were bared. "...Do tell me who did this to you, my dear."

 

Her words sent a chill down your spine and you had no doubt that if the gunman had still been alive he would not be for much longer once Muffet got a hold of him. The spider monster was not to be trifled with, dainty appearance hardly masking the volatile spark in her eye. You quickly did your best to calm her, resting your now free hand on the puffy sleeve of her shoulder.

 

"Your concern is touching, truly, but unless you plan to curse his soul there is little you can do." Actually, the idea of cursing the man did not sound half bad. You would have to look into it. Muffet, however, looked disappointed to know your potential killer was already dead. She took the handkerchief from you and dabbed at the wound a bit more in an almost motherly fashion. But too soon the chaos of the cafe was ushering her back to work.

 

“Unfortunately, duty calls and I must attend to the shop, but a waitress will be over in just a moment for your order. And I'll have a bit of healing magic added in to take care of that.”

 

With a graceful curtsy the spider monster left to assist the small line of customers that had formed at the counter in her absence. You returned your attention to Aster as he took the time to pull your seat out for you before taking his own. Perfect gentleman, just as you had imagined. However a ghost of consternation still seemed to linger within his expressive eyelight. After shedding your coats in the pleasantly warm cafe, Aster steepled his fingers before him to gaze solely at you.

 

“So,” You felt the need to break the rather tense silence, “What do you think?”

 

“I think you are more than mere acquaintances with Miss Muffet.”

 

Damn, he was even more suspicious than his brother. You suppose it was to be expected considering he was the strategist between the two, but it was no less disconcerting.

 

“You’d be correct. I am her building’s proprietor, managing and maintaining the property. My family works in real estate.” It was not a complete lie. Land was rather important to your family and its influence within the city. Though, most property exchanges in the usual sense did not involve guns and turf wars. But there was enough truth to your words to satisfy Aster as he did not rise to challenge you. “And what about you? What occupies your time when you’re not holed up in the local library?”

 

“I am a doctor, actually.” There was some pride to the smile that curled at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Like a scientist, or…?” But Aster quickly waved your assumption away.

 

“No, that would be my brother. He’s the astrophysics specialist. I prefer the medical field.” You had to control your surprise at that revelation. It was hard to believe the drunk pile of bones you had encountered at Grillby’s had a PhD, but apparently he was full of surprises. However Aster being a doctor in more than just mafia reputation suited him. “You see, there are no hospitals for monsters, and hardly any medical professionals specializing in their care. While we do not get injured nearly as frequently as humans- and I mean no offense, but your species is rather, shall we say, physically fragile…we are more prone to illnesses of the soul and other magic-related issues.”

 

“I see, so you took it upon yourself to keep your people healthy...how noble.” It was a rather impressive career path, even if you knew it was only a cover for his mafia ties.

 

“As you said, saving a life is not an act of kindness, it is decency.” Aster shrugged slightly, gaze drifting out the window and up the shopping district within the Dreemurr territory, “I do what I can with limited resources. There is a small office space beneath my apartment where I hold a makeshift clinic. An associate of mine constructed the necessary equipment to get by, monitoring soul vitals and magic stabilizers… It is enough to manage, for now.”

 

“For now?” You already knew the implications of his words, yet still you found yourself desiring to hear it from Aster himself. He sighed, slouching his impeccable posture to rest his skull against his hands and you could see the toll the past few days had been taking on him.

 

“I am sure you are aware of our...current situation.” You nodded solemnly.

 

“You mean the accusations against Asgore Dreemurr.”

 

“ _False_ accusations. There is not a shred of truth to them.” There was such venom laced in his words that you almost flinched. Moments ago he was a bashful bookworm, but as his eye sockets narrowed and his jaw went rigid you could see a cold and calculating ferocity about him. The spark of a mafia boss smoldered within his emerald eyelight. But as quickly as it was there, the godfather was gone and replaced with a refined, albeit exhausted, gentleman.

 

“A group without its leader is vulnerable and easily dominated. Each and every monster is waiting with bated breath for the storm to come, myself included.”

 

Somewhere deep within your chest you felt the urge to comfort him. He looked so incredibly broken, so at a loss for any sort of solution. Someone so gentle and polite did not deserve to look such a way.

 

You did not even notice your hand reaching halfway across the purple lace tablecloth until your conversation was abruptly interrupted.

 

“Good afternoon, what can I start you two off with? Drinks?”

 

Your hand froze, poised to give some sort of physical reassurance to the skeleton before you. His eyelight was trained on your outstretched fingers with interest. But in an instant you reigned in your shock at your own lack of control and pulled your hand back with unnecessary speed, as though you had been burned. Hopefully your cheeks were not too obviously flushed with embarrassment.

 

“Y-yes, drinks would be excellent, thank you.” You forced a smile to the small bipedal rabbit monster before you, willing the confidence back into your voice, “I’ll have a vanilla chai, please. And…”

 

Words trailed off as your gaze flickered back to Aster. His skull was once again seeking support from his hands, obscuring his face, though you still thought you could make out a distinct green blush.

 

“...A cup of chamomile tea would be greatly appreciated.”  

 

“Of course. Those will be right out.”

 

As the waitress hopped away an awkward silence fell over the small table. Aster appeared enraptured with the tablecloth while your gaze was focused out the window. Along distant streets you could make out monsters of all shapes and sizes meandering through their daily tasks. There were children, couples, elderly, just the same as humans going about their own lives. It was hard to believe there could be racism when humans and monsters were not so different beyond physical appearance. But humans tended to fear what they did not understand. The silence shared between you and your companion lingered even after your drinks had been set before you accompanied by the bill.

 

“I do not know if I should be wary or intrigued by your interest in monsters…”

 

You glanced back to the skeleton before you who once more had his green gaze fixated on you over the rim of his teacup. He took a tentative sip, still studying your expression and noting your annoyance.

 

“Why are you under the impression I am out to dust the next monster I see?”

 

Aster seemed taken aback by the sudden snap to your words, but you had enough of his passive aggressive behavior. True, humans were generally rather scummy towards monsters and you would be the first to admit that fault in your species. But he was generalizing and you had not given him any inclination to do so.

 

“Why do you think I have any reason to believe you would not?” There was now a tinge of irritation in his tone as well as he set his cup aside on his saucer. Answering a question with another question? Two could play at this game.

 

“Why does the fact that I saved your life mean nothing in my defense?” You leaned in a bit towards him, voice growing softer as you became more exasperated with each passing second. At first, Aster leaned back in surprise by your question, but he quickly held his ground.  

 

“Why do you know how to disarm a trained hitman?”

 

“Why do you _have_ a trained hitman after _you_?” The tension was almost palpable and in your mutual anger you found yourselves mere inches from each other, glowering. Needless to say, the shop had grown somewhat hush as your conflict drew attention. Several monsters fidgeted, knowing full well just who you were going head to head with.

 

“This is juvenile.” Aster practically growled as he leaned himself back in his chair, a subtle green glow about his features “I don’t trust you, Armati, and I think I am justified in that impression.”

 

“We all have our secrets, Aster. But not once have I given you any reason to be wary of me.” You took a long sip of your vanilla chai which had cooled significantly during your argument. Even with your heated conversation, you could still appreciate how delicious the spiced latte was. As the warm drink filled you there was a subtle tingling on your left cheek. You gingerly brushed your fingers over the wound and hardly even felt a raised scar. Magic truly was astonishing, though still not enough to distract you from the matter at hand.

 

“I am not about to speak for the entire human race,” You continued with a pointed look in his direction as you gripped your mug, “and I cannot even begin to comprehend the hardships monsters have faced since the Ascension. You _do_ have every right to be hesitant, cautious...but I had hoped you could look beyond the faults of a species as a whole to the individual. Though I see now maybe that was presumptuous of me…”

 

Now Aster, though his anger not completely quelled, looked guiltily into his teacup. This conversation was certainly not heading in the direction you had originally intended. You figured this little coffee date to be a chance at getting some insight into the species you desired to help from one of its leading figures. Yet somehow it had devolved into provoking and invasive questions. The gap between humans and monsters never seemed so far.

 

“...That was harsh of me. I’m sorry.” You sighed and, against your better judgement, reached across the table to rest your hand over his clenched fist. Immediately you felt his tension ease, though he still did not meet your eyes. “In a perfect world there would be no suspicion, no racism or hierarchy. But that’s not reality, and...I think if we plan to face that in hopes of achieving any semblance of peace, then we need to work together. I’m not asking for blind trust, but some sort of tentative alliance would be a step in the right direction.”

 

Much to your surprise, Aster’s fist unfolded to capture your hand, thumb gently running over the top. When you relinquished your attention from the unexpected gesture you found him gazing at you intently. There was no sign of a flustered forest blush, just intrigue that was so intense you found yourself blushing now. A smirk not unlike his brother’s played around his mouth.

 

“Perhaps my initial impression of you had been soured with bias. I share the blame, if not moreso. You have my remorse.” His thumb continued to trail over your hand, tracing the bones lying just beneath your flesh. “You are...an unusual woman, Miss Armati.

 

_Oddio..._

 

This was not good for your poor heart, not to mention stepping into dangerous territory. Getting too close could risk revealing your identity and considering where the Allegri family still stood with the Dreemurrs you were not exactly prepared to let that secret slip. Instead you withdrew your hand from his grasp to hold your latte mug for dear life. Your skin still seemed to prickle where he touched you.

 

“Trust me, you’re not the first to say that.” Averting your gaze, you took another sip of your drink, no longer so confident in meeting that piercing stare. Aster merely let slip a quiet chuckle that sent a chill down your spine.

 

“Somehow I am not surprised,” You took a bit of offense to that, yet embarrassment still held your tongue, “But beyond unusual you are incredibly clever, not hesitating to speak your mind. It’s almost admirable. I find myself in agreement with your sentiment, it is time we set our differences aside. If we want an end to the division between humans and monsters, the violence and misunderstanding, then we need to start seeing eye to eye...and that can only be done if we are willing to take the chance to look.”

 

His words drew your gaze back to him and you allowed the idea to hang in the air between you. Could monsters and humans ever find unity? You drained your latte and set the mug aside. Considering the condition of Ebott City as it currently was, it seemed more like a fool’s errand. Yet as you steadily held his vibrant gaze you could not deny the stirring deep within your soul. There was hope.

 

“I’ll...get the bill.” You were about to rummage in your jacket for your wallet when a silver card was already placed within the little leather booklet. A slight pout filled your lips as Aster took the bill upon himself.

 

“But I invited you.”

 

“I insist, Miss Armati. To repay you for your...insight today. You’ve been incredibly enlightening.” You waved in defeat and that playful smirk was in sight once more. These brothers would be the death of you. You began to pull your coat on, standing as you did so and Aster followed suit.

 

“But not for saving your life, right?” And there was the flustered skeleton from earlier as Aster floundered for words, whether to thank you or deny your accusation you did not know.

 

“It’s been a pleasure, truly, Aster.” You rested a hand comfortably on his forearm, reveling in the green flush that overtook him once more. “Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

 

Your fingers trailed their way off his sleeve as you swept past him to the door. Before leaving you waved Muffet goodbye as she was still rather preoccupied with customers. It warmed your heart to see her shop so successful on its first day. The future you and Aster sought did not seem so far off after all.

 

As you stepped out into the open air, you sighed and dug through your pockets for a cigarette and lighter. Igniting the end, you took a long drag before making your way down the street, the sun setting in your wake. You would have to call Matteo to arrange a ride home for you-

 

“ _Porca miseria_ , I forgot the donuts!”

 

* * *

 

The sun had long since set over Ebott City and the old hustle and bustle of the day gave way to the more unsavory activity of the night. If one was so inclined to travel about the streets after dark safely, there were certain areas to be avoided. Do not wander down alleys, avoid the bars and nightclubs, steer clear of the wharf unless you wanted a bullet through your head. These were practically common sense. But if you wanted to lean heavily on the side of caution, you would keep to neutral territory. Wandering into mafia territory was a death wish, there was just no sense willingly getting caught up in that violence.

 

If you were a monster, you could never be too cautious.

 

Thus, Wells found himself pushing his little Nice Cream cart through the park, steering clear of the surrounding gang turfs. The little red and yellow umbrella that adorned the portable freezer was carefully folded and his remaining supplies from the day’s sales were well secured. His profit that day was actually not too terrible. He had taken up selling the sweet frozen treat in the public park roughly a month ago, seeking to branch out in his customers. Selling to his fellow monsters was all well and good, but if he was to keep this business operating he would need to expand his horizons. True, it was a risk to step out of the protection of his territory, but what choice did he have?

 

_Not that we have much protection anymore…_

 

Blue rabbit ears drooped slightly at the reminder. Poor Asgore, the old goat had a kind soul and Wells simply could not believe what the televisions seemed to be perpetually screaming. Their king was no killer...not anymore at least. But Underground life was different and the surface was supposed to be a fresh start. Yet it appeared as though the humans could not let history die. What a bummer, he hoped they would come to see past their differences and, well, the past. Yes, he could not lose hope for a brighter future.

 

With a happy little whistle, Wells perked his ears back up and moved along his way. Occasionally he would glance up above to the heavens, picking out the rare bright star that was not completely obscured by the city’s light pollution. Despite all the chaos, the violence and animosity from the humans, he found he still could not hate the surface. He could not even bring himself to hate the humans. True, a few were less than kind to monsters, but when a parent would buy their kid a Nice Cream from him and they would depart with smiles, enjoying the treat, his soul would feel lighter than air. As long as there remained one human willing to hear them out, there remained hope for monsters. Just as at least one star remained visible, there was proof that monsters had truly made it to the surface, to freedom.

 

And for now, that would be enough for him.

 

Wells continued on his way back home to the monster district and the small sense of safety within the Dreemurr territory. His little cart bumped along the uneven sidewalk as he passed by the public schooland a few shops, until he reached the small train station. It was a lengthy walk, but the only way to avoid a mafia family’s territory. Word had reached him that monster-run cafe had opened within a particular family’s district, but he was not about to risk it. Besides, they were a boss monster, incredibly strong and he was a simple Nice Cream salesman. If something were to happen, if a crew of that family decided they did not like him passing through, then he was helpless. At least neutral territory was remotely safe.

 

Or so he had deluded himself to believe.

 

As he passed by a particularly dark alley there was an all too familiar tug at his soul, bordering on painful.

 

“A-an encounter?! No, please!” He barely managed to gasp before being dragged away from his beloved cart and into the shadows. Cowering in the filth that littered the ground, Wells scrambled to find his attacker. But in the five years since monsters had reached the surface his night vision was rusty and far from what it used to be. His ears pricked at the sound of movement, but it echoed off the brick walls around him making it nearly impossible to discern its source.

 

“P-please...I’m not interested in fighting. I...I just want to get home safely.” There was a shuddering breath followed by unsteady laughter that chilled him to his soul. “What...w-what do you want? Money?! Take it, take all of it. That’s all I have…”

 

The laughter continued and the grip on his soul only seemed to tighten. Wells gasped in pain, small claws curling into the grime as his entire body trembled in pain and fear. This was it, was it not? His end. Memories flashed in his mind’s eye: seemingly endless years underground, that weird, yet kind human child that became their savior, witnessing his first sunrise...it was all over now.

 

_SLAM!_

 

His body was thrown again the wall by an unseen force, crushing his soft fur against the jagged stone before being roughly dragged down. A trail of glittering dust was smeared against the brick. The voice continued to laugh.

 

Would death hurt when it finally claimed him? More than the pain he was enduring now?

 

_THUD! THUD! THUD!_

 

Like a ragdoll, his body was tossed in the air, only to be thrown back down with inhuman strength. This was magic, he had little doubt. But what monster despised him so? Who would kill their own kind? He knew humans were capable of such atrocities, but not the monsters he knew.

 

_THUD._

 

The repeated drops ceased with one final, crushing blow into the pavement below. A cloud of dust was expelled and Wells could feel multiple bones in his small rabbit body shatter from the impact. Yet he could not bring himself to cry out, for fear of biting his tongue off if he was tossed about again. Not until the pressure over him began to slowly increase and crush him further did he see fit to beg once more.

 

“W-wh...y..?” Was all he could manage as his vision blurred. The laughter quelled and a few footsteps reached his side.

 

“ _W-whyyy?_ ” The voice mocked, and Wells could almost hear the cold sneer in his words. “Because you creatures...you _fucking_ _worthless things_ do not deserve to see the sun or the sky. All you deserve...is to turn back into dust...and be forgotten in the earth you came from. And even that might be too good for you yet!”

 

There was a manic edge to those words, as if the speaker was not quite together themselves. That only struck more fear in Wells, tears gathering at his eyes. There was no speaking sense to such madness. This truly was the end for him.

 

“B-but we...never...plea…” The rabbit monster could barely get a word out as the force crushed the very air from his lungs, shattering ribs. Even if he wanted to scream now, he would not be able to.

 

“ _Never what_ , _beast_ ?!” The voice spat, settling a large black boot on Wells’ chest, further dirtying his yellow t-shirt. “You never did anything wrong? That everything you creatures did underground to escape was justified? Maybe that excuse worked for our useless politicians...but not _us. We_ do not forgive...And _we...we_ do not forget. You will all pay dearlly... _pay with your lives._ ”

 

_CRUNCH._

 

The rabbit's head was crushed beneath the boot of his killer, head slowly crumbling to dust which spread through the rest of his body. The figure, shrouded still in darkness, did not move until all that remained was dust. Slowly, ever so slowly, they began to laugh once more. It echoed around them like some sick chorus of insanity. A dull red seemed to glow from their eyes as they withdrew a knife from their waist belt. Intricate carvings in an ancient tongue curled up the handle and decorated the blade. The laughter dulled into mutterings, words few would understand. The knife was slowly dragged across their palm, blood pooling over the flesh and dripping down to stain the dust below. With two fingers they dipped into the warm fluid, all the while still whispering under their breath. Stooping low they smeared their bloodied fingers through the dust and began to drag them across the wall beside them.

 

Strange symbols and lines, contained and branching off from a circle, their crimson gaze not quite focused on the gruesome art they were creating. They swayed to some unknown thrumming, chanting, painting in time with the beat. The circle was complete.

 

Above it all the words were etched in blood and dust.

 

**A U T  N E C A  A U T  N E C A R E**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...actually feel really, really bad about killing off the Nice Cream vendor. He's one of my favorite Undertale characters, just such an optimistic little buddy. I made the mistake of stumbling across some adorable fan art before writing that part and my heart broke. RIP in peace, Nice Cream dude. You are gone, but not forgotten. ｡・ﾟﾟ・(＞Ｏ＜)・ﾟﾟ・｡
> 
> Fun fact: I named him Wells because in the trivia on his Undertale wiki some believe the inspiration behind his character is the Blue Rabbit ice cream brand, which is owned by a company named Wells. It seemed fitting and I didn't want to just call him "Nice Cream Vendor" the whole time...short a time as it may have been. 
> 
> But, hey, I warned about the violence.
> 
> Also, before starting this chapter I actually had little idea as to what I wanted the Reader and Aster to discuss at Saccharachnid. It just kinda flowed out when I got to that point and Aster ended up being a lot more of a paranoid hardass than I thought he was. Still, I do like how it all turned out in the end.
> 
> Up Next: How does Aster feel about the reader after their encounter? Who was behind the attempted hit? And can our reader handle two skeletons at once...? We shall see.


	6. Scusa non richiesta, accusa manifesta.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which connections are made and authority is affirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In some perfect world I am consistent with updates and it's rad as hell. This is not that world. But once again I had a lot of life stuff going on, so you can't really blame me. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> As compensation, have 9k+ words of probably rambling. But there's action and skeletons and blood, so I mean it can't be all bad, right?
> 
> One more thing, I am going to be leaving translations for the Italian and Latin at the ends of chapters from now on, just to make it easier on everyone, including me when I go back to read it all (...and totally not because I probably botched the words and phrases and I need to make sure y'all know what I'm trying to say. Mhmmm.)
> 
> ANYWAY, enjoy the chapter, my dudes! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

_“A guilty conscience needs no accuser.”_

* * *

 

A melancholy shadow seemed to be cast over the monster community. News had spread rapidly the morning the gruesome scene was discovered and reported to the human law enforcement. Though all that remained was dust, as was the norm for monsters, everyone knew who the remains belonged to. Wells the Nice Cream vendor had never returned home that night, much to his partner’s distress. The cat monster had set out at dawn the next day, searching everywhere within the Dreemurr territory, but with no luck. It was not until the police showed up at the door to his apartment, box in hand, that reality set in. BP gripped the sealed container holding Wells’ remains to his chest, collapsing to the ground in a heap of broken sobs. Monster onlookers could not tear their eyes from the scene, a mix of heartbreak and resentment in their gaze. The officers merely stood there, expressions rigid and completely apathetic. There was no compassion, no sympathy for the soul before them, wracked with sorrow. Even as BP begged for answers, any details as to how this could have happened when Wells had been so cautious, the police refused to provide information. They deemed it “too gruesome for the public until police could assess the evidence”, but the cat monster knew that was bullshit. The murder of a monster was not worth announcing in their eyes. The violent death of Wells would just be signed off as a cold case and locked in some old storage to collect dust. There would be no justice, no peace for his soul.

 

What remained of the rabbit monster was tainted dust. The spark that was left behind in the glittering substance was gone, as though it had been wiped away from existence. While a monster’s soul did not persist after death like a human’s, there was some sense of _energy_ , the essence of what once was, that lingered. It was why they would sprinkle the dust over a beloved object in their honor. But Wells’ remains were as good as ash, lifeless and almost foreign to the monster they once formed. 

 

His dust had been desecrated by a dark force that BP could not even begin to fathom. Yet still he clung to the box like a lifeline, as if his own magic coursing through him would be enough to revive his lover. It was foolish, hopeless. He was left to mourn by the police and even his fellow monsters moved on, accustomed to the grim display at this point. BP was not the first to suffer such a loss, and it appeared as though he would not be the last.

 

Word about the murderer traveled, hushed whispers of resignation to their fate. With each death, monsters grew more desperate and tension rose in the community in the following weeks. The skeleton brothers did their best to calm the community, find some sort of reassurance as their acting leaders, but there was little hope to be had. Something or someone was out to eliminate the monster population and there was not so much as a trace of a lead. 

 

It had taken days for Aster to convince the police to release the crime scene photos to him. Visiting the scene of the attack proved fruitless, all evidence already wiped away as though nothing had occurred. As if Wells had never existed in the first place. He needed the photos from the scene if they were to find any sort of answers. Officials were reluctant to hand them over, not wanting to insight further tension between races, but Aster managed to wear them down after a week of bargaining. It was rare, but with persistence the skeleton could get money to talk. The photos were not to be released to the monster community and they cost a pretty sum to even temporarily hold in his possession. And now the gruesome sight was splayed out before him on the coffee table alongside hastily scribbled notes and several extensive books on the human judicial system which he had obtained from the public library. With a defeated sigh he reclined against the old couch within his apartment’s small living room. It was well past midnight and G had yet to return home, but Aster trusted he would arrive soon. Boss monsters were not easily taken down and his brother certainly would not be dusted without a damn good fight.

 

_ Still… _

 

Aster cast a wary glance back to the images before him. Whoever they were up against was more than dangerous. Upon first viewing the photos three days ago he nearly fainted, the gore almost too much for his soul. Blood and dust were splattered everywhere and the thick mixture that painted the brick walls of the alley...he still shuddered at the sight. Then there was the mysterious symbol and the phrase just above it all.

 

“Aut neca aut necare...”

 

Naturally, he had translated its meaning from the original Latin. “Either kill or be killed”, a clear message that their enemy’s primary objective was to eliminate all monsters. When he had showed the phrase to his brother, G had frozen in place. Aster watched the lights flicker out from his sockets. But when he pressed G about his unusual response he had merely shrugged and left for Grillby’s without another word. Meanwhile Aster only felt more disconcerted; his elder brother was not easily unsettled. 

 

Phrase aside, there was also the matter of the symbol painted beneath. Aster could not shake the feeling within his soul that the circle and symbols were familiar. However, any attempts at recalling just how he recognized them only resulted in a ferocious migraine. Clearly it was some sort of magic, but he had been under the impression that only monsters were capable of such arcane abilities. Could another monster have been behind the attack? The idea did not sit well with his soul and he sincerely doubted it to be true. If anything the monster population had only become tighter knit in recent months with the increasing violence, especially now with their leader detained. 

 

But that left only one other possible answer: A human had killed Wells. A human possessing knowledge of magic and that did not bode well for the future of monsters. It was human mages that had originally pushed them down beneath the surface, trapped for century after century, scrounging for resources to survive in the bitter dark…

 

_ Dark, darker...yet darker… _

 

A sharp hiss passed Aster’s clenched teeth. He had been mulling over the attack for far too long, at least for the night. The stress was getting to him, deep bruising beneath his sockets and joints locking up. With a groan he let his bones sink into the weathered couch cushions, hushing the unease that swirled about his soul. It was best to dwell on more pleasant thoughts, lest he wear his mind thin with worry. A hot cup of tea on a rainy day, oversize sweaters, a well-loved novel, a sweet smile-

 

_ Always back to her. _

 

Though he would not admit to it aloud, on the rare occasion that his thoughts drifted from the plight of his people Aster would muse over that day at the cafe. He was not usually so forward, tending towards soft spoken, an observer, but there was something about that woman that beckoned him to play. Perhaps it was the enticing spark in her eye or the way she so easily pieced him apart with her words. Miss Armati was enticing to say the least. Intellectually intriguing, of course, nothing more. Though their banter had wavered between playful and jarring, Aster nonetheless enjoyed her company. Which even he could see was significant, considering how socially inept he tended to be. 

 

It was strange, he felt as though there was a time when conversation and socializing came easy to him, but at some point a deep insecurity began to settle within him. His mind grew over-analytical, calculating, and bordering on paranoid. With time he came to prefer the company of paper and ink to people. Books were safe and vast in their knowledge, their plot twists and discoveries never ceasing to surprise him. They were complex, yet consistent, unlike the unpredictability of the soul. 

 

And yet Miss Armati had stirred something within his soul that no book could touch. Aster could not quite place a name to the feeling, further reflection would be required. But with the matters of monsters at hand, there was little time for analyzing emotions. There was work to be done.

* * *

“I still can’t fathom your lack of self-preservation.”

 

“ _ Miei Dei _ , Matteo, for the last time I had the situation under control.” You stifled a groan as you settled your boots atop your desk, ankles crossed. This matter had been discussed ad nauseum with your consigliere, yet he continued to chastise you like a parent. At first his concern for you taking an armed hitman down with your bare hands was endearing, but as time passed you grew bored with his doting. However, Matteo was your loyal associate and friend, thus when you requested that he look into recent activity within the assassination organizations of Ebott City he eagerly rose to the challenge. You suspected he was partially driven out of revenge for you being placed in harm’s way, but whatever got the job was of little consequence to you. His results were somewhat lackluster, though that was to be expected. Stealth and discretion tended to accompany a hitman’s job description. Despite the attack you intervened being executed in broad daylight there was still evident calculation in their methods, studying the target’s behavior to pinpoint their location and the perfect position for attack.

 

Aster was lucky to have lived that day. Not that you were an expert on what was capable of incapacitating a monster, but he likely would not have fought back even if he had a chance. With the magic ban placed in the city inhibiting its use even as a method of self-defense and the lack of weapon resources accessible to the Dreemurr family he had clearly been left vulnerable. An easy target if you had ever seen one. Not to mention he was attacked in neutral territory where mob violence was nonexistent, usually at least. It was a bold move by the enemy, one that would not go unnoticed by every mafia family within the city, not just your own. But as their identity remained a secret you began to doubt just who you could trust, even among your allies. Only those within your family could be safely relied upon to track down answers.

 

The folder Matteo had provided was vague at best. Hits on monsters were common, as much as it sickened you to admit, ever since the Ascension five years prior. Though none were directed by the Allegri family, of that you were certain. Up until recently your organization had no interactions or dealings with monsters or the Dreemurr family. The same could not be said for your allies though, seeing several familiar names on the list Matteo had compiled. But you were incapable of dictating their actions, especially when they involved those you were not aligned with. However, there was some semblance of an agreement on several terms, one of which being neutral territory. Family matters were not to be dealt with within the designated neutral turf and if you discovered that any of your allies had ordered the hit on Aster, well…

 

_ You were going to have a  _ very good _ time. _

 

Unconsciously you cracked your knuckles, loud snaps permeating the room despite your leather gloves. It had been far too long since you had been in a proper shootout and the prospect pulled a devilish smirk to your lips. Taking down that gunman had riled up your more confrontational side and it had yet to die down in the weeks since. You would not consider yourself a particularly violent person, at least not without reasonable cause. But you did not reach the position you now held by being soft-hearted and your hands were far from clean. 

 

“Maybe the situation was under control, but perhaps exercising some self-control would be advisable in the future.”

 

You merely rolled your eyes at your consigliere’s remark, he could sound so motherly at times. But he meant well and you would trust no other at your side. He was more than capable at what he did,and speaking of-

 

“You’ll see there was a hit ordered to one of  _ our _ associates within the assassin’s guild, if you will. Rather suspicious, no?”

 

Intrigued, your gaze flickered down to the line Matteo indicated only to narrow as you skimmed the limited information. Suspicious did not even being to cover it.

 

_ Buffone Club & Casino _ \- Client:  _ N/A _ \- Target:  _ Monster (BOSS) _ \-  Directive:  _ to be executed POST-DETAINMENT _

 

Though the intelligence was sparse it was more than enough to spark your attention. In particular, the further directive to when the hit should be carried out was cause for concern. If you had not been a witness to the attempted hit you would have assumed the order meant to capture the target alive for questioning or extortion before executing. But it was fairly clear that the hitman you encountered was not planning a friendly chat or abduction.

 

“... _ Post-detainment _ ...no doubt referring to the recent arrest of Don Dreemurr.” There was a grunt of agreement to your right as Matteo studied the paperwork over your shoulder. Still, something was not adding up and the last spit of information was troubling you,

 

“Says the hit was ordered more than three months ago. Looks like this was more than a little premeditated.” Glancing at Matteo, his features bore than same grim expression.

 

“It is rather disturbing, I’d hazard this was not some random hit for turf expansion if it has ties to Don Dreemurr’s arrest.”

 

You clicked your tongue with irritation. It appeared you were falling further down a rabbit hole into some seriously unsettling discoveries. You trusted the information Matteo provided, meaning that there had to be some connection between these recent events. The attack on Aster was thoroughly planned and the time was specified to be carried out presumably after Asgore Dreemurr’s arrest, meaning that was also planned. Could the former king of monsters have been framed in order for some unknown enemy to carry out a power play? You had no evidence proving the goat monster’s innocence, but you knew there were several families within Ebott City that would jump at the chance to remove monsters from the area.

 

“ _ Bene, merda, _ can’t say I’m too pleased to know someone is carrying out private plans in  _ my  _ city.” At first you merely wanted to assist the monsters out of some sense of human decency and for the chance to expand your family’s power. But now this directly involved those associated with the Allegri family and you could not ignore that even if you wished to. It was time to send a small reminder that you were a godmother not to be trifled with. Tapping a gloved finger over “ _ Buffone Club & Casino _ ”, you gave Matteo a wicked grin,

 

“Looks like I’ll be paying the jester a visit.” Replacing the paperwork back in its folder with various hitman profiles and victims, you dropped your boots from your desk to stand. Matteo still looked concerned, clearly refraining from speaking his mind. But words were unnecessary, you knew the idea of you confronting Signor Buffone did not sit well with him. Your grin turned playful as you ruffled his unruly, warm brown curls, his expression softening slightly. It was rare that you had the chance to treat him like the child, knowing he loved to hang those few years he had over you.

 

“You worry too much.  _ Mamma _ always said you’ll turn into a wrinkly old  _ stregone _ by the time you’re thirty if you keep that up.” Matteo snorted at that, his posture relaxing and his furrowed brow easing. 

 

“At least let me accompany you this time. It still doesn’t sit well with me that you were shot at when I wasn’t looking...” You sighed and stretched, your spine popping from sitting for too long. Whenever your consigliere got like this it was difficult to calm him down from protective “ _ fratellone” _ mode. But you supposed the support would not be a bad idea, all things considered. At the very least you could make a quick escape should things get messy. You gave Matteo a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder.

 

“As backup, if you insist. But, trust me, I’ll be getting the last laugh tonight.”

* * *

It had only taken you roughly an hour to change into something more appropriate for a high class casino. You hardly frequented such establishments, but you had an idea of the crowd you would be blending into. Thus you donned a figure-hugging black dress, the satin fabric eye catching in its simplicity with its swooping neckline and open back. There was a tantalizing slit up the side which you carefully concealed your favorite weapon beneath: an old silver athame that had been passed down in your family for generations. The blade remained dangerously sharp and was well balanced for throwing, while the black handle was weathered and carved with runes. It was discreet and silent, perfect for your evening’s plans.

 

You opted against pulling your hair into any sort of intricate updo, instead keeping it tousled and natural. While the high class crowd called for formal attire, the relaxed, if not intoxicating atmosphere allowed for some looseness in appearance. For an eyepatch your basic black silk one would do just fine. The less attention you drew to yourself the better as the chances of someone recognizing you as the Don of the Allegri family were much higher. After all, the “casino” was just a front a assassination organization. What better way to get information on targets subtly than through drunken gambling? No doubt there would be other families present there tonight, but as most still did not know you by face, you would likely be able to slip by more or less undetected. You strapped on a dainty pair of heels, ones you knew you could move quickly in should the need arise. 

 

With one final look over in your bathroom mirror, you were ready, if not a bit late. The sun had already long since set over Ebott City and Matteo was patiently waiting for you in the family’s parking garage. Though at this point his patience was likely running thin. Grabbing your coat and black clutch you hurried out the door. You gave only a few quick greetings and passing waves to patrons still in the art gallery as you made your way outside. The streets were dying down, the evening rush hour already dissipating as everyone headed home for the night. But for you the night was only just beginning. 

 

“‘Bout time, I thought you fell asleep up there.” Matteo grinned from where he leaned against a slick black Alfa Romeo. You snorted, even you were not that narcoleptic and the prospect of the evening had you more than a little excited. “You do look lovely, though.”

 

Gently gripping your hand in his gloved one, Matteo placed a gentle kiss to the top. A smile played at his lips, almost teasing.

 

“Dressed to kill, one might say.” Even he chuckled at your dark humor before opening the passenger seat door for you. The playful banter continued as you pulled out of the parking garage and headed towards the entertainment district.

 

The nightlife steadily became more boisterous with activity as you neared your destination. Neon lights blinked past you, their harsh glare somewhat dimmed through the sports car’s tinted windows. Conversation died down between you and Matteo as you began to mentally prepare yourself for what you were about to do. It was still early in the evening and there was a chance that Signor Buffone would not arrive for another hour or two. But this would give you the chance to scope out the crowd and plan ahead for interruptions. With any luck you would be able to slip past security and into the owner’s office once he arrived. Then it would just be a matter of squeezing information from the greasy old man. After that, well, it would depend on his willingness to speak and your mood.

 

“We’re here.” Matteo’s uneasy voice stirred you from your planning. You noticed he was once again on edge, glowering over the wheel at the rambunctious crowd outside the gaudy casino.

 

“You sure you don’t want me in there with you?”

 

“I’ll be fine, this is child’s play.” It was pretty clear your words were not setting him at ease and you could hardly blame him considering recent events. But you would be able to move about easier without him bearing over your shoulder. Not to mention this casino was only frequented by families that were allied with the Allegri’s and associates. You would be safe, relatively at least. But you could not afford to leave room for doubt as you shed your coat and made to get out of the car to head inside.

 

“A moment,” Matteo’s hand on your wrist stilled you. Your door remained only slightly ajar, but still the night’s cacophony bled within the car’s quiet interior. With a curious glance you eyed him removing a glove with his teeth as his free hand dug through the compartment beneath the armrest. After a moment he produced a small glass bottle, popping the top off he began to dab a bit of the contents on his index and middle finger. A floral aroma hit you as he leaned towards you, fingers gently brushing your sternum with the substance. 

 

“ _ Spiritus ducentia protegis tu. _ ” The words were so soft you almost missed them as Matteo drew his fingers in a complex pattern at your chest. 

 

“A protection sigil? Really?” Matteo shrugged as he sat back, replacing the top on the bottle. With a sniff you could tell it was violet oil.

 

“It never hurts to be on the safe side.” A childish part of you wanted to argue he was being paranoid, but it was rather touching that he was going to such lengths to keep you safe even if he could not physically be there to do so. And now you supposed you would smell like a bunch of violets, which you were not opposed to. You gave Matteo’s hand one last reassuring squeeze, promising to return within a couple hours before heading inside.

 

Just as you expected the atmosphere was buzzing with drunken life. As large as the building was, it remained crowded with humans filling the dance floor or huddled around slot machines and various table games. The excitement was almost dizzying and the raucous laughter was already beginning to hurt your ears. Yet within it all you knew you had a mission to carry out and could not afford to get caught up in the festivities. So you plastered a million dollar smile on your lips and meandered through the crowd. There were a few appreciative glances your way, the occasional catcall, but you brushed them off and allowed the weak words to be swallowed by the background noise. Right now your priority was finding a staff member to question about Signor Buffone’s whereabouts. Preferably one that was not a bouncer; the less of their attention you drew the smoother your night would go.

 

“There you are…” You murmured, pinning down a waitress refilling her drinks by the bar. She looked bored and more than a little exhausted with all the activities going on. Poor girl, the night had barely started, but being so drained you hoped her suspicions would be lowered as well. You slipped easily through the throng of people until you were by her side, casually leaning against the bar.

 

“Gotta hand it to you, I don’t think I’d be able to manage more than a few hours in this crowd, much less call it my job.” The waitress seemed slightly startled by the sudden attention, her expression somewhat annoyed, no doubt expecting some drunk guest to be hitting on her. But realizing you were very much sober, she relaxed and gave a polite smile.

 

“You get used to it, I suppose.” She leaned in to be heard over the din, her voice somewhat timid. “The noise, at least, the comments and...unsavory advances not so much.”

 

Your heart went out to her, knowing consent was often blurred when dealing with intoxicated people. 

 

“Could always just break a finger or two, just as a warning.” Though your tone was humorous you were only half joking as you picked up a flute of champagne the bartender had set on her silver tray. She eyed you warily as you sipped your glass, but a small smile tugged at her lips. There was a fiery spark in her eye that was not unlike your own, clearly fed up with her treatment at the casino.

 

“Tempting, but knowing how trigger-happy some of our...guests are, I’d rather not. It would probably be best not to lose my job too.” You shrugged in understanding, though not agreement. No amount of money was worth sexual harassment in your opinion, but jobs were tight in Ebott City and employees found themselves being let go at the drop of a hat to cut costs. But perhaps you could provide some security. Digging around in your clutch you plucked out a business card for the art gallery and held it out to her. You certainly could pay her better and she would not have to deal with the harassment she dealt with here.

 

“Well, if you ever give into the urge, Miss” You eyed her name tag as she took the card from you with a curious glance while reading it over, “Mia, then do not hesitate to contact me. My gallery could use another woman’s touch.”

 

Surprised, but grateful, the waitress smiled and tucked the card into the waistcoat of her uniform. It was the least you could do, considering you were probably about to go dispose of her boss.

 

“T-thank you, Miss Armati.” She flushed, placing a hand protectively over where the card now resided in her pocket, “Is there anything I can get for you?”

 

“Actually, there is…” A favor for a favor, you liked this girl already. “I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find Signor Buffone. He’s an associate of mine and I need to speak with him.”

 

“The boss isn’t in yet, probably won’t be for another hour...I-I could, well, I could find you when he arrives, if you’d like…?” Mia was proving her usefulness already, much to your delight.

 

You were about to reply, accepting her offer when you felt an odd shiver down your spine accompanied by a shudder deep in your chest. Instinct kicked in and you knew someone was watching you intently. It had been less than twenty minutes since you had arrived and you were already found out? Shaking the feeling you gave Mia a nod and moved to stand before her and take your leave,

 

“That would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I’ll try not to stray too far-”

 

“Well, well, well...here I thought my luck had run out tonight.”

 

There was a deep purr right at your ear, your body tensing at the sudden presence directly at your back. You reflexively pulled away from the intrusion, but a hand snaked its way around your waist, gently pinning you against a broad chest. The fingers now splayed somewhat possessively over your hip were distinctly firm, very inhuman. But the voice alone was enough to betray your captor’s identity, not to mention how Mia’s eyes widened with a mix of shock and terror. Her slim frame trembled slightly, clearly unaccustomed to the presence of monsters.

 

“This how you greet all the ladies? How bold.” You could feel his breath hot by your neck and you did your best to control a blush from reaching your cheeks. Feigning apathy, you plucked at the sleeve of his grossly expensive black suit, dropping it from your waist before rounding on him. His appearance was much more akin to the skeleton you had encountered weeks ago in the old warehouse, fedora and all. But the sly grin on his features favored the intoxicated sap you met at Grillby’s, minus the golden glow across his cheekbones. At least he was sober this time.

 

“Only the ones that like to slip through my fingers.” At your back, Mia squeaked with embarrassment at his familiar and flirtatious tone while you stood your ground. Without a word she scampered out from behind you and scurried off with her tray. Just when you thought your plan was going smoothly here was G to throw a wrench in it all, or rather a bone. Somewhere you knew a god was laughing at your plight, but you steeled your composure and met the skeleton’s cocky gaze with equal ferocity.

 

“Must happen often, considering you’re just bone. Poor you.” Your clever comeback left G chuckling, rather than backing down with wounded pride as you had hoped. With quick steps you made to skirt around him and back into the fray of the casino but a firm grip on your upper arm halted your steps.

 

“Not quite, I’ve got an excellent track record and I don’t intend to fuck it up tonight.” Great, clearly he was not letting you get away anytime soon. However, making a scene would only cause more problems in the long run. Taking advantage of your stilled movements G slipped his hand down your arm and back to your waist. It would have been easy to wriggle free from his grip, but, well, you did have an hour or so to kill. Was there really any harm in getting to know the skeleton a bit better? It was risky for your identity, but you could not deny that you were curious as to why he was here in a casino frequented almost exclusively by humans. His grin perked up even more, becoming almost genuine as he began to walk with you, taking the lead back towards the gambling tables.

 

“So, darlin’, what brings you to this den of sin all by your lonesome?” His voice was once more at your ear, though out of necessity to be heard in the crowd. A few surprised glances lingered on you two, which you met coolly until they back down. G seemed completely unperturbed by the attention you were drawing.

 

“Family,” The lie spilled smoothly through your teeth, “An uncle of mine owns this establishment and I decided to pay him a long overdue visit.”

 

Half-truths were far more convincing than outright lies and G did not question your explanation.

 

“Sounds dull.” You laughed at his blunt response. Under normal circumstances you would have agreed, but you knew this little “reunion” would be terribly fun. At least for you.

 

“You have something more entertaining in mind?” It was not wise to poke the beast and you knew your words were tempting him with all sorts of ideas. A pleased growl and squeeze of your hip only confirmed your theory.

 

“I could think of _several activities_ , trust me,” G murmured, but his grip loosened up nonetheless. “But I’d actually rather you meet someone first.”

 

“Oh?” His restraint surprised you, setting the teasing aside to introduce you to someone new. Was he at the casino with another monster, perhaps? You were rather intrigued at the prospect.

 

However, as you weaved your way closer to a craps table and G paused behind a particularly tall figure, you quickly realized this was no one new. Really, you should have known just who his not-so-mysterious companion might be. Even with their back turned and head bowed in focus, the elegant green silk scarf draped over a fine black suit was a dead giveaway. G gingerly rested his hand on his companion’s shoulder, alerting his return.

 

“Back so soon, G? And here I thought I’d have to drag you back- Miss Armati?!”

 

Aster’s bony features were swept up in surprise as his emerald gaze shifted from his brother to rest on you. You gave the lanky skeleton a small wave, reigning in the stress slowly building in the pit of your stomach. Frantically, your mind raced through the carefully crafted lies and withheld information you had fed both of them in each separate encounter. The last thing you needed was to be caught in a lie, but you had not exactly expected to be meeting with both of them at once anytime soon. Instead you controlled your anxiety and held out a hand in greeting, which Aster quickly took and pressed a chaste pseudo kiss to your knuckles, the skin tingling with traces of magic. That familiar green glow illuminated his cheeks once again. G looked equally as shocked that you were already acquainted, 

 

“It’s good to see you again, Aster. Have you been well?” In all the chaos of the casino you found him to be a calming presence, like the eye of a storm. The brothers were practically foils but managed to compliment each other in their differences. Where G drew out your inner minx, you noticed Aster set your soul at ease.

 

“Likewise, and I’ve been well enough, I assure you.” His words hummed in the air around you, charming and sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

 

“Not to interrupt, but will one of you explain exactly how you already know each other…?” G finally piped in, not annoyed, but certainly curious for an explanation. His brother chuckled, hand reaching to sheepishly rub at the back of his skull.

 

“We ran into each other in the poetry section of the local library, after which Miss Armati offered to grab coffee.” It did not escape your notice that he avoided mentioning the attempted hit on his life or how you saved him. But it was none of your business as to what information he chose to keep from his brother, so you simply nodded in assent. G arched a brow bone, and you had to resist the childish urge to poke his malleable bones once again.

 

“‘S that so? Well, the surprise is spoiled, but I'm glad to see you’re already in my brother’s good graces...even if it is as another bookworm.” You playfully pushed at his shoulder for his teasing before sidling up to the craps table Aster was apparently partaking in.

 

“I confessed as to why I was here, but what brings you two? I didn’t exactly take either of you for gamblers.” Leaning against the polished wood you let your gaze roam the table. While you were not exactly well versed in gambling, you knew most of the basic games. After all, most other dons enjoyed a round or two of poker and the like. It was a means of socializing and measuring out your opponent or potential ally for the future, certainly a less violent means of discussion.

 

“Just...killing some time. Though, as you can probably tell…” Aster gave a halfhearted wave to the table, words dying off. You let out a little snort as you quickly picked up on his embarrassment as they were losing. None of their bets were paying off and the game was appearing rather grim in their favor. G stepped up beside you to sandwich you between him and his brother. His smile was slightly tense, hand taking its place at the small of your bare back as the die were passed to Aster once more. You had the sinking feeling that more was on the line here than just a few chips and looking around the table your suspicions were confirmed. A few other participants were individuals you knew held ties to key information brokers within the city, all of whom were staring at the skeleton brothers with wicked amusement. 

 

“Mind blessing us with some of that luck, dollface? As you can see, we’re in a bit of a  _ pinch _ .” You shrugged, barely dignifying that weak pun with smile, but you had the time so you might as well give some friendly gambling advice.

 

“Just call me Lady Fortuna.” You cracked your knuckles in thought as you studied the table, prattling off the odds in your head. Lost in the game, you did not even notice how each brother flinched at the sound.

 

“Make a Pass bet-”

 

“We’ve been crapping out every time, Miss-” Your fingertips resting against Aster’s teeth instantly silenced him, his earthy flush coming back with vengeance. 

 

“Make a Pass bet,” You repeated, gaze returning to the table, “The odds are still in your favor.”

 

After a moment’s hesitation, Aster pushed a fair portion of their remaining chips to the pass line on the velvety table. All other participants went all-in and placed bets on the Don’t Pass line, confident the monsters would fail miserably. He rattled the die in his bony grasp while you rested your hand over his free one for reassurance, and gave you a hopeful smile before letting the pieces fly. They expertly hit the back wall of the table, rolling for a moment as everyone waited with baited breath. A one and a three were settled.

 

“Four.” Each brother tensed with the results. They had not lost immediately for once, but their odds were not the best. You chewed your lip, evaluating the risk and payout of taking the odds. Intuition was usually a last resort, but you decided to throw caution to the wind and go with your gut.

 

“Take it.”

 

“W-what?!” Even as a beginner, Aster could see the risk was tremendous and G settled his hand over yours as if to stop your encouragement. But you held Aster’s gaze with confidence. You knew they had something hanging on this game and you would see to it that they won.

 

“Trust me. Take it and double it.” The brothers exchanged a glance and from the corner of your eye you could see G nod his approval. It was surprising how much he trusted you, especially since it was all up to chance. But maybe he shared your intuition, knowing this was the right move. With a resigned sigh, Aster pushed their remaining chips behind their original bet and raised his free hand to roll the dice. However just before he started you gently grasped his wrist, the smooth bones stilling at your touch. Lowering his hand down towards you with a sly smirk, you gave a little blow across his closed phalanges. You did not need to look up to know Aster was aglow with a feverish blush at your bold behavior. At your other side G snickered, his hand at your back rubbing small pleasing circles against your bare skin. Releasing his wrist, Aster gave a few quick shakes of the die before tossing them once more. His hand eagerly slipped down to yours, fingers lacing together with a nervous squeeze. Hopefully he would not notice just how clammy your hand had become with suppressed nerves. Nobody said a word as the dice bounced off the wall, scattering and rolling until, finally they stilled.

 

A perfect two on either die. 

 

A euphoric mix of gasps and cheers rang from the table, and you did not even realize how invested you had become in the game until you were celebrating right along with the skeletons beside you. G wrapped his arms around your waist, nestling his face into the crook of your neck as he let out a relieved laugh against your skin. Meanwhile Aster remained holding your hand while his free arm wound around your shoulders to hold you close as he beamed down at you in wonder. Their happiness was contagious, bubbling up from deep within you to leave you giddy in their arms. Apparently your intuition had paid off.

 

“Lady Luck, indeed.” Aster grinned, raising your hand once more to kiss it, bringing a light flush to your cheeks. G loosened his hold to rest his chin on your shoulder, humming and ever so pleased. Their eyelights seemed to be so much brighter with delight and relief and you found yourself more than pleased to have been of some assistance.

 

“Might have to keep you around, doll, I think we could use your special touch.” You chuckled, arching a brow with amusement,

 

“Oh, is that all?” Teasing, you knocked your head lightly against his, earning you another lighthearted laugh. 

 

Outside of all the joy you noticed a gentle touch to your shoulder and glanced behind you to see Mia had returned. She was still clearly on edge, eyeing both skeletons warily, but she offered you a smile and nodded her head in the direction of the owner’s office, just behind the bar. Unfortunately, play time was over and the real fun was about to begin. You swiftly slipped from your skeletal bonds, much to the displeasure of both your companions. The brothers made a move to follow you as you stepped back from the table, but resting a hand to either of their chests stilled their advances.

 

“Duty calls, gentlemen.” A warm smile settled on your lips, the unexpected encounter being more pleasant than you had anticipated. You were about to leave them to follow Mia, but as your hands released them, they were merely captured one more. Almost in sync, G and Aster placed chaste kisses to either of your hands held firmly in their own. Their heated gazes caused your breath to hitch and chest to flutter like some sort of schoolgirl, much to your chagrin. It was embarrassing to say the least, and you quickly squashed the feeling as they finally let you go. You could not afford to be all giddy and flushed for this confrontation or these skeletons would be the death of you for sure.

 

“If you insist, we do have some...winnings to discuss.” Aster gave you a knowing smile and G simply winked with his usual smirk. You would leave them to their business to attend to your own.

 

As you slipped away the faint mutterings between brothers were smothered by the crowd.

  
  


“ _...You felt that as well…?” _

* * *

Trailing behind Mia you made your way to the back office, all the while willing your heart to settle down. It was time to focus and little flirtations should not be enough to get your riled up. You dropped the mask of “Miss Armati” and let out your true, ruthless nature: Don Allegri. Some might say it was cruel to play such facades, but that was simply what your lifestyle demanded. Your gaze grew chilling, features stony and apathetic. This was all just another game and you were not the player this round, you were the dealer. Tonight you had to call out the cheater with cards up his sleeves.

 

Mia paused outside the office door and spared her a quick smile before she returned to work. Judging from her unsettled expression she could understand this meeting was none of her business. Smart girl. You gave a few quick knocks against the heavy oak door, behind which you could hear muffled swearing and the rustle of fabric.

 

“Just got through the  _ fucking _ door and already these morons are riding my ass-” The raspy voice drew near, only to be cut off as the door finally opened. Signor Buffone was a stout man, pushing his sixties. His balding head consistently gleamed with sweat and his beady eyes could only be described as shifty. He was a rat in human form and if appearances indicated anything, then you should have seen his betrayal coming. Upon realizing just who he was mouthing off to there was an moment of fear that wrinkled his round face, though it was gone in an instant as he composed himself to the high and mighty businessman he attempted to be. Without a word, he stepped aside and allowed you to pass into his office, shutting the door in your wake with a soft click of the lock.

 

“Well, if it isn’t  _ Morta _ herself. To what do I owe this...unexpected pleasure, Don Allegri.”

Signor Buffone made his way back behind his desk with hurried steps, finding some semblance of security and control in that position. He took a seat a gestured to the chair across from him with a halfassed wave. It was almost amusing how he figured that because this meeting was in his office that he held any sort of power over you. The utter ignorance brought a smirk to your lips. You ignored his “gracious offer” and remained standing, pacing about the room to eye the bookshelves and stocked liquor cabinet in mock interest. The stretching silence only prolonged the man’s discomfort and you hear him shift nervously, clearing his throat.

 

“Just thought I’d drop by.  _ Una visita veloce, sai _ ? This city has gone to hell in the last few weeks, so I figured it was time I check in on my valued associates.”

 

In the reflection of the liquor cabinet glass you could see Buffone mopping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. He was more than unnerved with your presence, much to your satisfaction.

 

_ Damn right, he should be. _

 

“Yeah, those fuc-” A nervous cough poorly covered his curse, “those, uh,  _ mostri _ lost their boss. Tragic, ‘n all that. Poor sons of bitches are gonna have it rough from here on out.”

 

It was evident he did not give a damn for the monsters’ plight and you smothered the bubble of rage that threatened to be unleashed. All in good time.

 

“Mhm, heard about that, tragic, indeed.” Finally turning to face him, you ran your fingers through your hair. The locks drew back from your black eyepatch and you saw Buffone shudder, averting his gaze, but your smirk only grew. “A shame, really, we were just about to strike up a deal with the Dreemurrs, too.” 

 

Buffone stiffened at the information, a mix of shock and disgust ghosting across his features. It was news that had been kept strictly within the Allegri family so as not to disrupt any other allied connection, even after the plans fell through. But you were unconcerned about spilling the deal now, especially since Buffone would not be able to tell anyone about it.

 

“Sorry to hear that, Don.” You did not miss the humored tone to his words, not a shred of sincerity.

 

“As was I, it would have brought a sizable amount of wealth to our family.” As you spoke you walked the perimeter of the room with leisurely steps, and you could feel his gaze on you. It was sickening.

 

“Naturally, our associates would have benefited as well.” As you reached his desk, you scooted your ass up on the surface and crossed your knees, gaze dancing over the paperwork and photo frames that littered the area. None of the pictures were of family, aside from one with a man you knew to be his brother; another associate of yours who served as a fence for stolen goods that your family procured. Most of the images were just him posing with celebrities that frequented his casino, oozing with vanity. No one would really miss him.

 

“Damn shame.” The words were murmured as he sneaked glances down your lounging form, eyes hungry. If there was one thing that set the soul at ease it was pleasure and you were well aware of Buffone’s love for women. Not that you ever let him lay a hand on you, but judging by how he treated his female employees and could never hold down a relationship in all the years he had been associated with your family, his weakness was obvious.

 

“Truly, but,” You waved off the disappointment with a sigh, “we have standards in the Allegri family and allying with a compromised family is a big  _ no-no. _ ”

 

With those last two syllables you tapped the toe of one shoe against his chest for emphasis. Buffone let out an unsteady and somewhat breathless laugh, dabbing at sweat once more while licking his lips. Gods, you wanted to gag, but you refrained.

 

“But you know our standards right,  _ signore _ ?” Leaning in you brought a finger to slide down the fabric of his crumpled Armani tie, gingerly wrapping the silk around your digits. The beastly man was practically putty over your teasing.

 

“ _ B-beninteso! _ ”

 

“Oh?” You mocked surprise at his blatant lie. “Is that so? Because, well, if I recall correctly-”

 

Without any warning, you yanked at the tie in your grasp to draw his face inches away from your own. The force constricted the fabric around Buffone’s thick neck, leaving him sputtering for air and face turning red as a pomegranate. All hints of emotion were now gone from your features, only the cold and calculating godmother remained.

 

“ _ We do not execute hits in neutral territory. _ ” Your words pierced the air like shards of ice and the man at your mercy flinched as if each struck into him directly. He wheezed for the little air he was able to draw into his lungs, fingers clawing at the fabric around his neck.

 

“I-I...I d-didn’t-”

 

You yanked a little harder and were rewarded with a pig-like squeal.

 

“I grow bored with your lies, Buffone. Best not to waste the little breath you have. After all, it was your hitman that nearly shot me.” Even as his eyes bugged out from the constriction at his throat, they grew impossibly wider, “Too bad he offed himself before I could question him after I took him down.”

 

You clicked your tongue like a disappointed mother and watched in fascination as fear began to mix with rage on Buffone’s flushed face.

 

“M-my….best m-man...you... _ bitch… _ ” You merely yawned at the insult. At least the niceties were over with now.

 

“Perhaps you should have considered that before attempting to take out Aster on  _ neutral territory _ .” Buffone attempted to laugh, though it sounded more like gagging as the lack of oxygen was starting to wear on him.

 

“ _ M-mostri puttana! _ ”

 

_ Well, that’s not very nice. _

 

With practiced reflexes you drew the athame strapped to your thigh and swiped the blade across his throat in one fluid motion. Hot crimson sprayed through the air, dripping down his neck and spattering your figure. Thankfully, none got in your eyes or mouth, but you were thoroughly decorated in blood across your face and chest, seeping down into your dress. Buffone barely managed to wetly sputter as you brought your lips to his ear.

 

“Not quite...the real  _ mostri _ , are people like  _ you _ .” Releasing his tie, Buffone’s body fell limply back into his chair and you watched as the last sparks of life fled from his eyes. His movement stilled and those once glassy orbs grew dull like some dead fish. With a sigh, you rubbed away a drop of blood that was nearing your good eye along the back of your hand before plucking one of the mostly clean tissues from the box on his desk. A satisfied smile settled on your lips as you wiped the blood from your blade before safely tucking it back into its sheath. Hanging just beside the athame was a small pouch which you loosened the drawstring from and picked at its contents. From within you produced a small cluster of dried purple flowers protruding from a delicate stem. Vervain, your signature and a flower excellent for cleansing negative auras and spaces.

 

“ _ Requiescat in pace _ , asshole.” You growled, sticking the stem of the flower right into the deep gash across his throat, blood still slowly dribbling from the wound. It was a bit disappointing for the fun to already be over, but you had business to attend to. With the toe of your shoe you slid open the desk drawer beneath you, eyeing the papers within before settling on a small, leather-bound book. Nudging back the stiff corpse that was now in your way, you leaned down and freed the book from its hiding spot, if it could have even been considered that. You were almost concerned you had been doing business with a man who had little care for security. Flipping through the multitude of pages, you confirmed the book to be the business ledger for Buffone's assassination jobs.

 

“Job well done, old fool, let’s hope you were thorough.” Information now secured, you hopped off the desk and smoothed out your dress as best you could, despite the heavily saturated blood. It was a shame, really, you rather liked this dress. But small sacrifices had to be made and, thankfully, there was a back door you could slip out through undetected. Wandering back through to the casino looking like you just committed a murder was not the best method of escape. Since you _had_ just committed murder, after all.

 

_ Just cleaning house. _ The thought drew an amused laugh from your lips as you pulled your cell phone from your clutch and hit the speed dial for Matteo. The first ring had not even finished when he picked up.

 

“ _ Job complete, I hope?” _

 

“Obviously. Though, uh, if you could pull around the back, that would be appreciated.”

 

There were a few choice swears in Italian before Matteo hung up. You could deal with his nagging later, right now you needed to sneak out undetected. Slowly, you eased the lock on the door back before opening it a crack. The coast was clear in the hall and you waited a few beats to ensure it remained that way. At the far end of the corridor was a door that opened to a back alley. It was almost too easy to visualize Buffone sneaking out with women he bought for the night, feeding his lust away from the public eye. You pitied the women and hoped such an experience had not completely scarred them. Wiping a bit more blood from your face, you stepped out from the office and shut the door behind you. It would be an unpleasant discovery for the next person, but there was little you could do or even cared to do. 

 

Crossing the hall, the din from the life within the casino was somewhat muffled with the distance. You found your thoughts drifting to the skeleton brothers. Had they gotten the information they played for? If you recalled the other players at the table, you knew the brokers they worked for were good on their word as well as their information. You hoped they carried that sincerity to monsters as well, for G and Aster’s sake. Perhaps they could find some means of protecting their people or proving Don Asgore’s innocence, considering you were still waiting to hear back from your father on how the Allegri family could help them personally.

 

The chilling autumn air soothed your troubled thoughts as you fled into the pitch black alley.

 

“Matteo!” Your hushed voice seemed to echo off the surrounding brick walls and your fingers instinctively went to the hilt of your athame, just in case. But with the little light bleeding out of the back door you could make out his approaching figure.

 

“Good to see you made- _ che cazzo?!” _

 

Leather-clad hands cupped your cheeks, as his gaze scoured your face for signs of injury. You brushed his hands off with a weary smile,

 

“Relax, it’s not my blood.” Matteo sighed with relief, moving to take your hand and lead you back to the car parked further in the shadows. You all but collapsed in the back seat, stretching your legs out despite Matteo’s protest about getting blood on the leather.

 

“You couldn’t have been a bit, I don’t know,  _ cleaner _ about it?” Closing your eyes you could still see the blood dripping down that ruddy flesh, that lackluster gaze. It was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. As the adrenaline fled your body and exhaustion took its place you could still work up enough energy to spit the remaining venom you had left for your now deceased associate.

 

“ _I wanted to see the life leave that racist fuck's eyes._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, our lovely reader gets to meet both of our skelebois yaaay! So much cute fluff to enjoy...while it lasts. 
> 
> And by "lasts", I mean lasted. (✿◠‿◠)
> 
> But goddamn, I had to roughly learn how to play craps and brush up on my Latin for this chapter. Hopefully, it was conveyed well enough.
> 
> There's one thing I wanted to quickly address at the end of this chapter because it's slowly becoming a thing in this story (though it's all going to go to shit soon, don't worry). Romance. Originally I tossed about a few ideas, possibly having multiple endings for the story. So one where the reader ended up with either of the brothers, and maybe one where it was completely platonic. I'm not opposed to those ideas, particularly the platonic one because being best buds is awesome too. But as of right now, because of certain future plot points, this looks like it's going to be a polyamory romance. There is solid reasoning behind it, but I know that that might be a no-go for some readers. It's not set in stone yet, I'm not adding it to the tags until things develop more in that direction (if they do at all), but I am just putting a warning out now.
> 
> So if polyamory is not your thing, this story just might not be for you, which is chill and all up to your personal preference. I just figured a head's up was in order rather than just springing it on everyone. 
> 
> Aside from that, what can we expect from the next chapter? Well, how about some nefarious and vague plotting, tensions rising, and angst wrapped in brotherly love? Sound good? Good. Don't worry, we are nearly to what I am sure everyone is waiting for (and I am eager to write): just what kind of deal is going down between Asgore and Luciano?
> 
>  **Translations**  
>  "Miei Dei" - Italian - My Gods  
> "Bene, merda" - Italian - Well, shit  
> "stregone" - Italian - witch (male)  
> "fratellone" - Italian - older brother  
> "Spiritus ducentia protegis tu" - Latin - (roughly) Spirits guiding protect you.  
> "Morta" - Roman Mythology, so like Latin and Italian I suppose? - Goddess of Death, and our Reader's well-deserved nickname from Ch.1  
> "Una visita veloce, sai?" - Italian - A quick visit, you know?  
> "mostri" - Italian - monsters  
> "signore" - Italian - sir  
> "Beninteso!" - Italian - Of course!  
> “Mostri puttana!” - Italian - Monster whore!  
> "Requiescat in pace" - Latin - Rest in peace (and a not-so-subtle Assassin's Creed reference because I am trash)  
> "Che cazzo?!" - Italian - What the fuck?!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments or constructive criticism are always appreciated. And, hey, if you wanna leave a kudo too, that would be rad as heck!~ 
> 
> **Check out my other works** :  
> [Bound by Blood and Bone](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11826828/chapters/26689800) _(temporarily on hold)_


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